


Captured in the Dark

by Ireland_Ranger



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Manipulation, Slavery, confusing good/bad vermin?, twists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:11:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 67,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ireland_Ranger/pseuds/Ireland_Ranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mouse is a slave to a cruel fox. He's frightened, hurt and sent alone on a mission to save a place called Redwall and to gain his freedom. But then he meets an otter he feels comfortable around, will he be able to overcome horrors that burn his mind and trust? All the while, theres a fox with plans that nobeast can see the ends to...</p><p>On Hiatus. Ideas welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brothers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kelaiah](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kelaiah), [Siblings](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Siblings).



Darkness crept over the forest, whispering cool airs blew as the snow softly fell like melting stars in the night. In a clearing, surrounded by oak, pine, alder and other types of glorious trees, a large band of vermin gathered, gambling and crowing angrily at one another. Spears, glittering swords and bows warned off any bird that may have considered spending the winter in Mossflower wood.

The ground was swept with brown, grey and tattered tents of the raiders. Guards were posted about the camp, standing still and still, disciplined unlike any other vermin army the end of the camp stood three large, midnight-colored tents, their presence menacing and foreboding. These were the traveling dwellings of their leaders, beasts to be feared and walked carefully about.

A cry from the the tent off to the right caused little concern, though did perk up a few ears. Still, none dared enter the tent of the eldest son of their leader, Slickcast Gorelimb. His title was enough to send shivers into the hearts of his subordinate raiders. His fiery temper and evil-glinting eyes could send victims and soldiers alike, quailing and quivering with fright, like babes in the cold. The business of Slick was his own.

None but his sly half-brother dared meet his wrath and sadly, one very unfortunate mouse was meeting just that. Having been ordered to bring the fox's meal, the young slave had scurried far too fast to obey, resulting in the dinner falling from his paws with a clatter and mess.

His master had stuck him, sending the creature to the ground with a cry. His light brown fur was rustled and dirty, his emerald eyes flashed fear as he studied the ground. He dared not look up to the cruel fox, he would only be reprimanded for such a deed. Trembling in terror, he closed his eyes, thinking of anything but his current situation. Sadly yet, nothing came to mind.

"You careless, filthy beast!" Slickcast growled, his footpaw nudging a fallen plate, luckily made of wood and still intact. "This mess is unacceptable! You shall pay for your clumsiness, wretched creature..." His voice drawled off wickedly, a sick grin over his red features.

The mouse froze, petrified, not knowing what to expect and yet knowing full well it would be terrible. He was young, merely ten seasons in age, but he knew all too well what an angry master resulted in. And for all the times to make a mistake, he had done it in front of a Gorelimb!

"No, please!" The miserable slave cried in fear, begging to be spared. He dared to look up at his master, and it earned him a hard kick in the gut. He mentally berated himself for the mistake.

He waited in stilled terror for a beating to commence, knowing he had wronged himself in the eyes of the blood-colored fox. His birth-slave mind told him he was at fault, he deserved it. But a small tingle of innocence and right pulled, telling him this was unjust. His poor, slipt thoughts left him in confusion more often then not. He was still a cub, such worries he was not supposed to have. He was ultimately resigned.

He tensed as Slickcast rose his paw intent on flailing the living daylights out of his chain-beast. Uninvited and sudden, another fox came into the tent, bearing himself with dignity and an air of mockery. He was slightly muscled and younger then the other fox, but a sturdy blue-jemmed sword was sheathed on his back and there was a challenge in his coal eyes. His coppery fur shown in the dim candlelight, as opposed to Slickcast's bloody-crimson fur. It was clear as day that they were related. Their faces were similarly shaped and their body structure alike. Brothers, no doubt, any creature could see that. They were the sons of the same cruel, heartless leader of this horde, Doxtriz Gorelimb.

The younger fox's gaze gleamed disapproval as his eyes took in the situation between the master and slave. He, like his father and brother, had slaves, but unlike his father and brother, his approach to punishing them was extremely different then their way of handling uppity slaves. Physical mistreatment was rarely used, if ever. In fact, he hardly punished his servants at all besides berating them or speaking forcefully. This did not mean him weak, for nobeast would ever dare to dream of calling him such. It was his honor, his self esteem and high regard of life that prevented him from being like his sibling and parent. A trait he had earned from his dead mother.

"What now, Slickcast?" He asked the slave's tormenter in a drained and careful voice, clearly annoyed.

"Nothing you should worry about, brother." Slickcast grinned cruelly to himself, turning to his brother. "Scum here wronged me, I'm merely teaching him a lesson."

The younger fox glanced at the creature curled up upon the floor, paws now over his small head. He frowned, before rolling his eyes back to his brother.

"You really need to lay off of the discipline, dear Slick." He stated, sighing in mock distress. "You can't give what you don't possess!"

A growl escaped the red fox's throat as he glowered at the other.

"I don't recall inviting you in, Copper." He demanded, much to the other beast's amusement. "What is it that you need so bad as to enter into my tent uninvited?"

Copper smirked, shrugging lightly and cocking his head to the side.

"Father demands your presence, I merely am insuring that you come..." His voice trailed off into a chuckle. "You could get lost in your own camp if not I or Blackivy were to guide you. Can't have you loosing your way!"

The bigger fox replied, straightening angrily.

"Shut up, you know nothing!" He scoffed, grabbing his cloak from where it lay on his cot. "I shall arrive shortly...alone." He added the last word with harsh meaning.

Copper cast his keen eyes upon his brother.

"We both know it is not wise to keep Father waiting." He stated plainly, but with a touch of venom.

His brother cast him a grin and nodded.

"Indeed. You're loyalty and respect towards him is quite amazing, little brother." The smile faded lightly. "Just keep in mind who is the first born and rightful heir to this horde, got that? You don't order me around."

"Keep you're petty rights and forked tongue in your own mouth, Slick." Copper retorted sharply. "I don't care a hoot for the position you treasure so dearly. Don't get sly with me, brother. I may be younger, but I am not ignorant or air-brained. You will be nothing but a corpse if you challenge me."

Slickcast cast a dangerous look on his brother then smiled.

"You indeed caught mother's outgoing ways." He leaned forward and tilted his head. "Just keep what I said in mind. When I am leader of this horde I will require the same amount of respect and loyalty that you give to our beloved father. And you will obey me in every command."

Copper sneered at the fox.

"Of course. Obeying you will be an honor, surely." He said with a small sarcastic tone, which went unnoticed.

Slickcast nodded once more and then stood straight, in a dignified manner. He clasped his dark cloak under his chin and grinned at the deadly eyes his brother aimed at him. He buckled his sword to his side and looked down at the mouse, still huddled on the ground.

Lifting a paw, he nudged the creature harshly, causing a whimper as the mouse understood he was being addressed.

"Get up Scum!" Slickcast growled in disgust. "I want to have some damson wine when I return, go and get some off of Getter. I hear he has some fresh supplies from our last raid still. Now get out."

"Yes Master." Scum said as he quickly and painfully rose and scurried out of the tent, eager to get away.

Once he was gone Copper turned to the older fox, his face not shielding his disdain.

"It's no wonder your slaves are always useless, Slick. You beat them frail."

Slickcast let out a low, threatening snort.

"And you, dear Copper, hardly raise a paw against them, allowing them to be rebellious and strong willed."

"I need my slaves to work, not collapse and be useless for days on end."

The red fox grunted without care, making his way to leave the tent.

"My slaves do work, dear brother. But if they collapse, I don't wait around for 'days on end' for them to get back in shape. I get rid of them. Hope for survival keeps their work from being left undone."

Copper glared at his brother as he left the tent, leaving his younger sibling to himself and his thoughts. Copper clenched his fists and set his teeth. He spit of the ground in disgust. This life he led was a sickening and dishonorable one, and he was set on changing that.

He scanned his black eyes over the luxurious tent of his brother's. Fine rugs, golden platters and shining weapons filled the dwelling, treasures captured in the raids his brother craved going on. The raids, Copper resisted to his utmost ability. It wouldn't be true to say that he was a good and kind creature, but he did have his limits. He was a honorable beast, a fox who didn't think that slavery was a necessary thing. It was the lazy and power-craving beasts that used slaves, not he. If he wanted something done efficiently, he'd do it himself. He only had chain-beasts because his father required him to. And such things were why the fox did not bear full respect to his father.

Slavery was not glorious, honorable or proud.

And that's what bothered him. The next target was full to the brim of respect-worthy beasts, and they wouldn't stand a chance against Doxtriz Gorelimb and his well-trained raiders. They would be crushed and enslaved like all the others. He was determined not to let that happen.

Leaving the tent quickly, he made for his own in a hurry, tired of being about soulless creatures of greed and lies. However, he had barely went three steps before he heard a cry off to his right. Turning about he frowned when he saw the mouse-slave from his brother's tent being tormented.


	2. The Little Slave

The mouse, who Slickcast had named 'Scum', wondered about the camp of hordebeasts in search of the winer, Getter. He hoped he could find the stout soon, for his master had long finished the wine he had stolen in the latest raid, and he didn't want another beating. After a few minutes he spotted the fat stout within a group of vermin, laughing. It was clear, to Scum's disappointment that Getter was drunk, and disturbing him would probably end in a whipping. But, his master could and would beat him harder then any beast in the whole raiding horde, so Scum advanced.

Curiously, Scum reached the drunk stout and his glaring companions. How the mouse wished he could be somewhere else, even in his wooden cage, rather then approaching drunk, violent beasts!

"What do ye want?" One of them spat at the slave.

"I...Master wants some more damson wine, sir." Scum looked at his footpaws, not daring to meet the eyes of the stout.

"Does 'e now? Well there's a payment for it ye know, mouse." Getter said grabbing the frightened mouse by the arm and squeezing it so he cried out in pain.

The vermin lounging about laughed and snickered at his pain.

"Please sir," Begged the mouse, struggling a little. "I must take the wine to my master!"

"Devoted creature aren't ye?" The stout mocked. "Or is it simply, that ye don't want another beating?"

Scum's lips quivered in terror, but he said nothing in reply.

"Well," Continued Getter. "Ye just go n'tell yer master that there's no more wine left!"

He threw the mouse onto the ground and kicked him in the face. The horde beasts laughed and jeered as Getter continued to lay out blows and kicks on the slave over and over. Scum cried out and gasped in pain, once again he went to put his paws over his head in protection. But before he could, a rat stepped on his paw and dug it into the hard ground. Scum screeched loudly at the pain and tried to pull it away, but it was useless.

"I came to see what was taking the slave so long, now I see." The voice was Copper's. "He was on his way to find wine for my brother, and you dared interfere?"

"Aw Cop, we were just having a little fun!" Getter stressed, then lied through his teeth. "Besides, he insulted me!"

Scum was now panting in fear, he hadn't insulted anybeast, but it was doubtful that fox would care. He'd listen to the stout's word over a slave's anyway.

"I don't know how he managed that, Getter." Copper continued. "But he's my brother's property to punish, not yours."

Getter snorted and looked away in anger. The vermin began grumbling, it was clear that they hated to have their fun busted by their leader's son. The rat who stood on Scum's paws dug the small creature's paw into the ground with all his might, trying to channel his anger over their spoiled games.

Copper glanced at the frightened mouse, who lay, biting his lip to stifle whimpers of agony as his paw was crushed further into the dust. Hot tears were silently rolling down his face as he tried in vain to pull his paw away. What Copper said next, he couldn't understand.

"Get off him, Bloodshot." He ordered the rat that had his footpaw on Scum's paw. "I need to take him back to my brother's tent for...other punishment for being late."

At first Bloodshot seemed as though he was going to be defiant, as Copper wasn't the most popular leader in the horde. But after gazing into the flames of the fox's eyes he obliged reluctantly and huffed away.

Getter and the other vermin glared at the fox a few second's before turning to follow the rat. Leaving him with the miserable slave on the ground.

Scum looked up at the fox that had spared him from being beaten. He was confused as to why the fox had gone and done it, but then again, foxes are unpredictable. He caught the vermin's eye and quickly looked away, holding his injured paw to his chest. One beating was enough, he didn't need another simply for making eye contact.

"Get up and come, mouse." Copper commanded as he turned and marched off.

Scum struggled to stand and follow. He had a deep feeling of dread when he thought of Slickcast's angry face. He could hear the whip whooshing through the air, feel the sting of pain on his back. He shuddered and shut his eyes tightly, willing the thoughts to go away.

Once they reached the tent, Scum slowly followed the fox inside, glancing to and fro to see if his feared master was there. Thankfully he was not back yet.

"Sit." Copper said, making a motion to a nearby stool.

Reluctantly, Scum made his way to the stool and sat down, squeezing his eyes shut in terror and confusion. He had no idea what the fox wanted from him, and he was scared to death to think about it.

"Give me your paw." The firm voice commanded.

The mouse, thinking his injured paw had suffered enough torture, shaking he put his other paw out. What the fox had in mind, the little slave didn't know.

"No mouse, you're hurt paw!" The voice hissed.

Scum opened his eyes, pleading filled them.

"Please sir, don't hurt it more!" He begged, tears filling his eyes. "It hurts enough! Please sir, anything but that! Plea-"

"Silence!" Copper growled and held out his paw for the mouse's. "Let. Me. See. Your. Paw."

Head down, suppressing his tears, Scum extended his injured paw, wincing as the fox took it into his own. He closed his eyes again, expecting a fresh wave of pain to course up his arm. But it never did. Something cool and moist touched Scum's paw making the pain cease a little. Then something was being wrapped around his paw. He opened his eyes. The fox was bandaging his crushed paw!

"There." Copper said quietly when he had finished, and then turned to put a bottle of cream back into his satchel he always carried. "Your paw will be fine."

"But..." Scum looked up; fear was still present in his eyes.

"You'll be fine." Copper repeated, ignoring the mouse's 'but'.

"T..Thank Y..You s..sir." Scum said lowly, looking at the ground.

"Yes, well...go get some sleep until Slick comes back."

"No! My Master will beat me if I'm caught sleeping!" The mouse bloated out, then realized what he did and added a quick 'sir' on the end, fearing a beating.

Copper raised an eyebrow.

"How can you work if you don't sleep?" The fox asked opening the tent flap, and a gust of frigid wind burst into the tent.

"I...I...d..don't know...s..sir..." The mouse was shivering fiercely in his rags.

"Well, at least rest for a few minutes." Copper turned away and began to leave the tent, he turned back to see the mouse still sitting on the stool. "Did you hear me?"

The mouse jumped, startled.

"Yes sir..but..."

"'Yes but' what?"

"I can't go outside while my Master is gone...he'll..w..whip me..." The mouse gulped, shuttering a bit..

"Why would you need to go outside?"

"My Master puts me in the cage...its outside."

"Can't you just lie on the ground somewhere in here?"

The mouse's eyes went wide with fear.

"No sir! My Master..."

"Ok, ok, ok! I get it, he'll beat you. Fine stay up, can't say I didn't try."

With that, Copper huffed out, leaving Scum alone in his master's tent. The mouse got off his stool and went over to the corner of the tent and curled up, awaiting with dread, his cruel master's return. Tears filled his green eyes, rolling off his light brown facial fur as he looked at his bandaged paw. Why had the fox done that to him? Why had he been so...nice? Scum didn't understand it. Slickcast was so cruel, yet his brother...? The tears fell onto his ragged tunic. They were tears of confusion and loneliness.


	3. An Odd Turn

After Slickcast had returned to his tent, Scum had been savagely beaten for disobeying his master and thrown in his cage, left to starve. After a long while of trying feebly to nurse his wounds, he had fallen asleep in a flood of quiet tears. He had learned long ago the punishment for annoying the camp guards with his sniffles.

The next thing he knew he was being jerked awake as somebeast grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him out of the wooden cage. Though this was not uncommon, he let out a small squeak of fright and pain, which was rewarded by a stinging slap in the snout.

"Shut up mouse!" A harsh voice warned. "I'm taking ya to yer new master. If ye don't stay quiet I'll flog ye so 'ard ye won't be able te gasp 'tween screams."

Scum clamped his mouth shut. He knew the beast who spoke to him was Fungal the weasel, and he never made light threats. Meekly, he allowed himself to be dragged by the neck to wherever it was the weasel was to take him. The mouse could not help but wonder who his 'new master' was. He silently begged fate would place him in the possession of somebeast less cruel then Slickcast. Though, he had never put too much faith in fate, not after all the unjust and severe whippings and beatings he had suffered under these raiding vermin.

It was not long before they met their destination. As a matter of fact, it was only a minute before they arrived at Slickcast's tent. Scum's cage was always placed outside of the fox's warm tent do he could be fetched easily. Scum could sometimes here the fox on his angry rants and more cheery moods. He hated hearing the angry mood swings that his master came over, for it often meant a beating was coming for him, the only thing he had was the suspense and dread of awaiting to be summoned.

Fungal stopped in front of the tent, he paw still gripping the young mouse's scruff unmercifully.

Scum kept his head bent as he listened to the weasel respectfully call into the tent.

"I brought 'im Slick, sir."

"Enter." Slickcast's gruff voice replied from within.

Pushing the mouse before him, Fungal entered the tent and threw the poor slave onto the ground so hard the wind was knocked from Scum's lungs.

"'ere 'e is Slick. Jus' like ye asked." The weasel stated.

"Good. Now get out." Slickcast's voice was cold and thick.

The weasel bowed and obliged, leaving the mouse on the ground.

A few seconds passed before the vermin spoke again.

"Get up Scum." The fox commanded.

The mouse quickly scrambled up before his master, head bent in submission.

There were a few more moments of deep silence before Slickcast shattered it.

"There you see? He isn't strong, smart, clean or big. Why do you take such an interest in him?" He question.

"Because I could use him." A voice answered.

Scum's ears pricked up, but he kept his face down. That was Copper's voice! He'd know it anywhere.

"This is rather sudden is it not, brother?" The older fox continued. "Felt a twang of pity for him earlier during the night?"

"My reasons should not concern you, Slick. " Copper responded coldly. "Your pay is all you should worry about."

"Fine, fine. Take him, you know I'd give anything for four barrels of damson wine and a load of pigeon and seagull meat."

Copper grabbed Scum by the arm gruffly. He left the tent pulling the mouse behind him. Scum wasn't sure whether to be relieved or frightened to death. Yes, the younger fox had been softer to him then his brother, but he was still a fox and the kin of his other master. Being owned by any beast in the whole horde was sure to be painful and strenuous...but the leader's kin? The little mouse shuttered as he was dragged behind the fox.

When they reached Copper's tent and entered, the fox let go. He instantly walked over to a table and sat down, eying the slave before him.

After a long silence, the fox spoke up, his voice was level and calm.

"What's your name, mouse?"

Scum still had his head bent and muffled something inaudible. The fox cupped his paw over his ear, straining to hear what was said.

"What was that? Speak up mouse I can't hear a thing!"

"Scum sir…I mean Master." The mouse quickly spoke.

"Scum?" Copper raised a brow. "What kind of name is that? Was your mother drunk or disgusted with you when you were born?"

The mouse didn't answer the question. He couldn't really. It wasn't his mother who had named him, it had been Slickcast. The fox had killed his mother shortly after his birth. It was really surprising that he had survived so long.

"Hmm." The fox thought as he tapped his chin. "Well, that name must go. Hmm...How about Arman?" He looked at the mouse for conformation.

"Yes Master." The mouse shrugged.

"Blasted! Stop being so submissive and answer my question! Do. You. Like. The. Name. Arman?"

Scum was genuinely shocked. Slickcast had never asked his opinion; he had barely let the young beast speak at all unless he was responding. Unsure of what to do he stood there in confusion. The young mouse somehow considered this situation to be a fearful one, for he shook with fright like a leaf in the wind.

"Well?" The fox demanded.

"I..I s..suppose...M..Master." He stammered. Copper rolled his eyes.

"Look." He said as softly as possible to the mouse. "I'm asking you what you think about what name to name you. It's your choice. So, do you like the name Arman or not?"

"Not..r..really..s..sir." Now the mouse was being honest, though he wasn't sure if it would cost him to disagree with his new-found master.

"Then what name would you use?"

Scum was now highly unsure of what to say. Sure, many times when he was caged and alone he thought of what names he would call himself if he ever was miraculously freed. But of course, he doubted that would happen. He bit his lip, thinking hard for a name. He wanted it to suite him, to be his.

Then came the memory. The memory of the mouse who had been a slave to Slickcast along with him. A mouse called Taft. He had always been kind to Scum when the small creature wept after being whipped or had been starved for days. He had given a small amount of comfort in Scum's tiny and worthless life. Taft had been the family the mouse had never had. It had been him who had finally had enough of the cruel fox abusing the defenseless and youthful mouse. He had heard Scum whimpering as the cruel lash cut his skin and had left the tent in rage to put a stop to it. The only thing he got for his bravery was death. Scum saw his only friend beaten to death before his eyes, and that night, he wept like never before. He had always wished he could have at least thanked the older mouse for being kind, and now he had the chance to honor him.

Bringing his eyes up the patiently waiting fox, he announced his choice, still a little scared.

"Well..I..I rather like the n..name T..Taft.."

"Taft, eh?" The fox said slowly. "Where'd you get that name? Well, no matter. Taft it is then. See that cot in the corner? It's for you. Wash up and get some sleep, I'll be back in a while." With that the fox stood up and left the tent. Scum, now 'Taft', stood in shock as he watched his new master leave.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Taft. Taft. Taft." The young mouse said as he laid on the cot the fox had given him. "I'm Taft not Scum. Taft. Scum. Taft. Scum. Taft.." He smiled slightly. He never liked being called Scum because, well, it's in the name. It made him feel like the scum of the earth, just as Slickcast had told him he was. But now he was Taft. Taft the mouse. His grin faded. Taft the slave. No matter what his name was, he was still a slave.

"Taft, you awake?" Copper asked as he walked into the tent. The mouse shot out of his cot and answered promptly.

"Yes Master."

Once again, the fox rolled his eyes.

"Don't be so jumpy, you could hurt yourself."

"Yes Master." The mouse said quietly storing the order away.

"I brought you some food." Copper placed a plate of bread and fruit, along with a cup of water on the table. "Eat it quickly. I have something for you to do."

"Yes Master." Taft answered as he walked over and picked up the plate.

"Don't you say anything else besides 'yes master'?" Copper asked impatiently. "Do you know how to say anything else?"

"You know I do." Taft replied, and then slapped his paw over his mouth in correction, nearly dropping his plate. Fear filled his eyes "I..I mean..Yes Master...er.."

"Good grief mouse!" The fox sighed. "You'd think I'd hit you every time you stutter or slip a word! Speak freely Taft. I hate one sided conversations."

The mouse stood there silently, looking at his footpaws, not exactly sure how to react to the new command.

"Eat your food, Taft." Copper ordered, then stalked over to a chair by the table and sat down.

Taft took his plate and cup over to his cot and sat on the ground, squirming into the corner of the tent and trying to stay out of the fox's sight. He looked down at his plate. It had more food on it then he had any recollection of ever being given before. The fruit and bread were fresh and clean, not moldy and shrunken like the ones he usually got from Slickcast. Picking up an apple he looked at it in wonder. No bruises or shriveled spots, it was like him ever since he had been under Copper's ownership. Slickcast would have surely beaten him a few times already for any reason he could find. Taft sighed and was about to take a bite out of the piece of fruit when Copper called to him, startling him and causing the apple to fall from his grasp.

"What are you doing on the floor Taft?" The fox asked.

"Eating, Master." The mouse replied, a little shaken. Would the fox whip him for eating in his presence?

"Not on the ground you're not." Copper said sternly. "Eat like a civilized beast, at the table. Hurry, I have a message for you to send."

"Yes Master."

Taft got up and walked to the table. Placing his plate on it, he sat down on a stool and began to eat. He tried not to wolf his food down, but it's hard when you're starving. The fox watched the mouse eat; his eyes were hard and unreadable, making Taft flinch. Once the mouse was finished, he picked up his plate and cup and stood up to wash them, but Copper stopped him.

"Don't worry about the plate, I'll get somebeast else to take care of it." He took the platter from the stunned Taft's paws and replaced it with a satchel and canteen. "There's food, a fresh tunic and supplies inside, along with the message. Listen very closely now, this is vital information. I want you to head west-"

"Alone? Your sending me away?" Taft squeaked in fright and excitement, he couldn't contain it, everything was happening too fast now.

Copper let out a sigh then nodded.

"Yes Taft, I am." He looked hard at the confused young mouse. "The lives of many beasts depend on you. This massage is of the utmost importance. I'm trusting you to take it safely to it's destination. Please listen to what I say, ok?"

Taft nodded and held the satchel close to his chest. He was terrified at the idea of being sent away to wander alone, yet he was terrified of what his Master would do to him if he disobeyed. Never before in his life had he been asked to do such a task. Since when did a master send his slave away?

"Head west through Mossflower woods." Copper continued. "You'll find a big redstone place called, Redwall Abbey. I want you to knock on the gate and give them the message that I put in the satchel. Ok?"

Taft hesitated then nodded. He looked down at his footpaws.

"Then I come back Master?" He dreaded the answer. "Then I go back...back to S..Slickcast?"

"No Taft." Copper said lightly. "You can stay at the Abbey. You're free once you hand them that message. But if you don't, then I will find you and give you back to Slick, got it?"

The mouse shuddered.

"Yes Master."

"Good mouse." The fox smiled, it was actually a warm smile.

He lifted his paw to pat the small mouse on the head, but the creature flinched in fear. Taft closed his eyes expect to be slapped, and was confused when he felt a gentle paw on his head, rustling his headfur. He looked up at the fox a question in his eyes.

"Not all foxes beat slaves, Taft." Copper said with a sad smile.


	4. The Otter

Taft ran as fast as his paws would go. Slickcast had seen him slipping out of the camp after darkness had fallen and now had four hordebeasts casing after the little mouse. He ran and ran, his paws were sore and his sides hurt, but he didn't stop. Slickcast was behind him! If he ever caught the starved mouse...Taft shook at the thought.

"I sees 'im Slick!" A creature shouted, not far behind Taft.

"Right, keep up the fun of the chase me lads! After him!" Slickcast's unmistakable harsh voice sounded through the forest. "We can't let him alert the target!"

Fear and horror at the sound of the fox gave Taft an unbelievable burst of speed. He glanced behind him to see his pursuers, thankfully they were nowhere in sight. He dogged trees, hopped logs and ran so fast his tears of terror flew off his fur. He wanted to be anywhere besides sprinting for his life in an unknown wood, even in his accursed cage awaiting torment.

After about a half an hour of dashing and scurrying nonstop the mouse could run no more.

He fell to the ground on paws and knees, panting and gasping in the frosty air, causing his lungs to burn and ache. The fresh layer of winter snow beneath his paws, melted at the heat of his body. He was in a cold sweat, and his eyes were bloodshot. Looking about in desperation for a place to hide from the fox and his vermin, he spotted a hollow tree trunk, maybe just big enough for him to squeeze into. A shout from the distance sent the young beast diving for the tree.

He pushed and squeezed and struggled to pull his weak body into the tree's hollow trunk, but it was no use. He couldn't do it, even being as skinny and young as he was. He would be caught and, and...Taft closed his eyes and bit his lip. Hot tears found their way out of his eyes and down his face. He didn't bother to brush them away. He had wept more times then he guessed he had eaten, and he had found the warmth of the salt water an odd comforter. Curling up into a ball, he gave a shuddered sigh and looked down at the satchel Copper had given him.

He hated the thought of failing the fox who had promised him freedom. Freedom that he would never get because of Slickcast. Copper wouldn't help him again, he knew. He was alone, waiting for the cruel fox to catch and beat him to death. All he had ever wanted was a chance for freedom, and now it had come, and soon it would be destroyed. Shuddering, Taft put his head in his paws and began to weep bitterly.

"Psst!"

"Wha-?" Taft's head perked up and he looked about. "Who made that noise?"

"It's me, over here."

Taft swung his head around to see two black eyes staring at him. He screeched and squirmed backward fearfully.

"D-don't hurt me!" He squealed in terror, throwing his paws up in front of his face and shutting his eyes tightly.

"Hurt you?" The creature said coming closer. "Why would I hurt you?"

Taft carefully eased his eyes opened. He was surprised to find that before him was an otter, squatting down to the mouse's level. He wore a broad and genuine smile, his fur was dark and glossy, and his torso was muscled and stout and frightful to the little slave. The otter lifted a paw to gently touch the terrified mouse on the shoulder, but Taft squeaked and drew back until he felt a tree from behind preventing further escape.

"There, little guy, I won't harm you." The big otter said soothingly and in a kind voice. "I'm Skipper Rogth, but you can call me 'Skip'. What's your name? What are you running from?"

Slowly, Taft forced himself to gulp down his horror and speak.

"I-I'm T-t-taft. Are y-you f-from R-redwall?"

Skipper continued to smile cheerfully and warmly at the mouse, making some of Taft's fear die down. He couldn't remember the last time a beast had ever looked upon him with that kind of smile, that is, a warm smile rather then a malicious and cruel one.

"No, but I know the way there." The otter raised his eyebrow slightly. "Are you heading there little friend?"

"Yes, sir." The little creature said.

"Well then." The otter stood up and held out a paw to help the small beast up. "You should come with me. From the looks of you, you need a good bath, fine meal and long night of sleep."

Taft shook his head.

"No. I-I have to get to R-redwall, it's important." He paused in thought and terror before quoting Copper. " 'The lives of many beasts d-depend on me. This massage is of the u-ut-tmost impor-t-tance'." He struggled with the last two words as they poured from his mouth.

Skipper stared at the mouse for a few seconds; paw still extended, and then chuckled.

"Well, you're a determined little beast, aren't you?" He knelt down next to the mouse and grinned, ignoring the fact that the little creature pushed his back as far as he could into the tree. "Fine then, I'll take you to Redwall. But we should go back to my camp, not wise to sleep out in the open ya know."

Taft watched the otter rise again and put his paw out a second time. Unsure of how the water-dog would treat him if he refused, he took hold of the paw and was pulled upright.

"Here, follow me." The otter said, turning and marching off into the forest.

Reluctantly, with no better plan, Taft followed the beast back to his camp.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taft had been fed and given a place to rest in the small tent the otter used. The otter watched the terrified mouse closely. He often peered around at the trees and shuttered at the slightest sounds. It was certainly clear that he didn't know whether to trust the otter or not, the fear Rogth read in the young beasts eyes was enough explanation for him. It took a long while for the little mouse to finally fall into sleep, keeping his green eyes always on the otter.

Now Skipper Rogth watched the young mouse drift into sleep, shuttering and flinching at the slightest sound from the surrounding wood. He felt pity for the young beast as he listened to his whimpers and cries as he slept. However he thought it better to simply let the mouse sleep then wake him to see what was wrong. But when the shivering creator's sniffles grew louder and stronger, the otter sighed and went over to Taft, hoping to calm the tiny creature down. Touching him lightly on the shoulder, Rogth was surprised when the mouse woke, squeaking with terror and began crying out pleas and scrambling to get away.

"No! Don't hurt me! Stop! Please! Let me go! Don't whip me!" He threw his paws over his head in horror, tears running free down his cheeks.

Skipper quickly took the young mouse in his grasp; he regretted waking the young beast so suddenly. The little form quivered in his arms, in fear and in confusion. Rogth gently rocked him back and forth, his voice lulling the crying mouse back into reality as best as he was able.

"Calm down little fellow. It's alright, nobeast can hurt you. I'm here to protect you." He wiped the mouse's tears away with his finger and pulled a blanket over the shaking creature in the freezing night air.

Taft grabbed tightly onto Rogth's fur and pressed himself against the big chest, quaking and sobbing.

"Don't let me go! Please don't let them get me!"

"Hush, I won't." The otter said, he was surprised at how mouse grasped him like he was a long lost friend, not willing him to let go. "Go back to sleep. You're safe now."

After a long while Taft had drifted back into his troubled slumber. He had never known what it felt like to be safe, but somehow he guessed it felt like being held in the arms of a strong otter, who would take him to Redwall and freedom.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taft woke and pulled his blanket tighter about his body, as a gust of wind pierced him. The cold penetrated his skin mercilessly regardless of the blanket and rags wrapped about his small body. He whimpered slightly and opened his eyes. Though he knew where he was, he was still surprised to have been allowed to sleep until he woke, rather then be dragged out of sleep and put to work. Waking without seeing wooden bars surrounding him also made him feel odd.

"Ah, you're awake! Good! Come eat something, little mate."

Taft jumped at the voice and quickly sat up. He looked around, finding himself in a small travel tent. He was amazed at how drained he felt.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up by opening the tent flap and letting that cold breeze in." Skipper said smiling at the mouse. "But now that you're awake, might as well get some food into ye, eh?"

Taft made a move to leave his place and became aware that he wasn't feeling so well. He shivered, wrapping his arms about him. He was freezing and yet ever so hot, a terrible feeling. It didn't take long for the otter that the mouse hadn't moved and came to the mouse's side.

"Hey mate, you don't look so good." He said as he put a paw to Taft's burning forehead. "Seems you've got a fever. Lie back down, I'll be right back."

"But I have to get to Redwall!" Taft croaked. His mouth and throat burned and scratched as he spoke, causing him to wince.

The otter gently laid him back down and put another blanket over the mouse.

"You're sick mate; we'll get there by noon today. So don't you worry about that. Try to rest while I make you something warm to drink."

"Can I have my sack?" Taft groaned hopefully as the otter pulled the blankets tight about his body.

"I'll bring it." Rogth assured him. "Now lie still and keep those blankets on, you're ill enough."

Taft happily obeyed. He never recalled being given a blanket for warmth in any season and looked after with real concern. It was a warm feeling to know that maybe this strange otter cared about him, even in a slight way.

Skipper came back into the tent a few minutes later gripping Taft's satchel and a cup of green-oak tea, which he made the little mouse drink before he let him have the sack.

Once the tea was done, the otter handed the satchel to the mouse. Taft opened it eagerly and looked through it's contents, searching for something. It was not long before he found what he wanted. Pulling out a warm tunic, just his size, Taft gave a small yelp of joy as he inspected it. It was clean and unfrayed with a dark green color and brown stitching around the edges. Any other beast would have thought nothing of it. But to Taft, it was his very own unscratched tunic. 

The smile was so bright on the mouse's face; Skipper thought he was looking at a long lost treasure, rather then a new tunic.

"Here." He said softly. "I'll help you put it on."

He helped the little mouse removed his ragged tunic and then he washed him off with what water he carried in his canteen. The little mouse looked as though he hadn't been cleaned in seasons, because he was crusted with dirt and mud all over. However that could not compare with the horror, the otter saw nasty scars that could only have been caused by a whip or rod, over Taft's pelt. Some of them were newly crusted with blood. He was also very much bruised up, making the otter wonder where this mouse had come from. He at first thought Taft might be a runaway, but after the previous night's terrors and the scars, he knew the mouse had just escaped slavery.

He had nothing to bandage Taft's back with so he tore an extra blanket up and used it's peices instead. At first Taft wouldn't let the otter touch his back, sliding away from the Skipper, but he was too weak to fight for long, and reluctantly allowed himself to be cleaned and bandaged. The little creature winced at times but how the little mouse didn't cry out in pain, the otter didn't know. Slowly, trying not to disturb the home made dressing on Taft's back; he helped the little mouse slip on his new tunic.

"It's so warm!" Taft croaked and smiled, brushing his paw over the material in awe. Then his face became serious. "We have to go to Redwall, Skip."

"We're going to." Rogth once again assured the mouse. "But we need to take it slow, you're ill.."

"No." The mouse said painfully, shaking his head. "We have to hurry, or I'll never get the message to Redwall and I'll never be free."

Skipper raised an eyebrow.

"Free?"

Taft nodded stiffly, but said nothing.

"Well...what's this message you have to take?"

"I don't know." Taft shrugged. "It's in the satchel. Copper said to give it to Redwall, and that it was important."

Now Skipper raised both eyebrows with concern.

"Can I read it?" He asked gently, trying not to raise alarm for the mouse.

"I guess." Taft shrugged again. "I don't know how to read."

He reached into the sack and produced a small, sealed paper. Carefully, he handed it to the otter as though it was a relic. Rogth took it, smiling warmly at the mouse and then opened the seal. Unfolding the paper he read it's contents and his brow darkened.


	5. Redwall

Creatures of Redwall,

But I shall not waste time telling you of myself because great danger is coming to your Abbey. A beast called Doxtriz Gorelimb is planning to kidnap your warrior and lay siege to your home. He is a highly trained fox with no mercy for your kind or his own. I have sent warning. Whether you choose to listen to it or not is your choice. But you cannot say you have not been warned. I will contact you again as soon as I can. You will not be able to beat this beast!

Look after Taft.

-Copper-

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Taft was frightened by the otter's sudden change of mood, and he broke into a fit of sneezing and coughing. Rogth put the letter down and left the tent to fetch another cup of tea for the sickly mouse. It was only a few short moments before he returned with the steaming substance in a tin cup. Cupping the mouse's head in his paw, he helped the young beast drink the hot liquid carefully.

"I..is it about..m..me?" The young beast finally asked when the fit died down. He looked extremely pale and weak, making the otter worry.

Gently laying the mouse back down the otter pulled the blankets up to his chin, a worried smile on his lips.

"Don't you worry about it, mate. You need rest. Just go to sleep."

Taft could do nothing but obey, he was too tired and drained to resist. He lay there still, breathing slowly and found himself drifting in and out of sleep. Dimly he watched the otter packing up the small camp in a hurry, egar to get traveling. The mouse slowly shut his eyes and fell back into his troubled sleep.

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Taft woke he was wrapped in blankets and in a cold sweat. He was shivering terribly and burning with fever. It didn't take long for him to notice that he was being carried by Skipper Rogth, the warmth and security was comforting to the little mouse. His head was laid gently against the otter's broad chest, and Taft listened intently to the strong beast's steady heartbeat. It was something he found wondrous, how such a small muscle could keep alive an entire body, it was truly amazing. Unwillingly the mouse sneezed and the strong arms held him tighter and closer, shielding him from the cold.

"Don't worry little mate." Rogth's voice was clearly stressed and concerned. "We're almost there. Just a little longer, hang on."

The heartbeat sped up a bit, causing Taft's tiny body to quiver.

"When we get there you'll be well taken care of. Sister Cria will get you well again, you'll see."

Taft suddenly became aware that his back seemed to be on fire with pain, and the otter's arm pressed hard against it. He groaned and shifted in Rogth's grasp, trying to ease the agony caused by his many past whippings.

"Don't worry, Taft. Look, we're here! I can see the bell tower!"

Taft weakly looked up and saw a red tower climbing up to the bright grey sky, like a becan, showing the way to sanctuary. It started to snow again, and his sight was beginning to blur. He tiredly shut his eyes, and must've dozed, because when he opened them, he was being carried through big wooden gates and he could hear voices unfamiliar to him.

"Oy Skip! What's this?" A cheery and firm voice asked.

"A mouse, get Sister Cria."

There was a "Right Skip." and then a sound of paws scurrying away.

"Come Rogth." The voice of a motherly creature drifted into Taft's ears. "Bring him into the gatehouse and out of this cold."

"What me to take him Skipper?" Yet another broad-sounding voice questioned.

"No I'm fine Brandy. Get another blanket though."

"Ok Skipper."

Taft felt himself carried into a warm place and set lightly down on a bench, leaving the body-heat of the otter who had been faithfully carrying him. For some reason, he wasn't sure, he felt a horrible fear fill him and he weakly put his paw up to find the good otter who had cared for him.

"Skipper." He groaned in an inaudible voice.

"I'm hear Taft." A strong paw slipped into his own tiny and weak one.

"Is...is t-this R-redwall?" Taft whispered.

"Yes, mate, it is." Rogth said with a grin.

Taft smiled numbly.

"I'm free."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well Sister? How is he?" Father Abbot asked quietly, gazing on the sleeping mouse.

"He's completely worn out, starved, beaten and bruised." Sister Cria, the old squirrel healer said. "Not to mention he's extremely ill. Whatever was he doing in the woods Skipper?"

"Running." The otter shrugged.

"Why? It's made him terribly sick!" Cria said forcefully, placing her paws in the sleeves of her green habit.

"You tell me Sister." Rogth said, crossing his arms, looking hard at the squirrel. "Those marks on his back and the bruises on his face and body are enough to tell me what he was escaping from."

"Slavery?" The Abbot mouse asked.

"I have no doubt." The otter turned to the old mouse respectfully. "When I found him he was afraid to death of me. Then during the night he began whimpering in his sleep. I picked him up and he begged me never to leave him. How could I say no? I saw this morning he was sick. I made for Redwall immediately. He was asleep nearly the entire way here. Will he be ok Cria?"

"I think he'll pull through." The Sister said with a sigh. "I'm worried about his back though. I put him lie on his stomach so the wounds could heal. Some were infected. I did what I could, but we're short on herbs, it is winter you know."

"He didn't want me to touch them when I bandaged them, though he seemed to be used to the pain." Rogth said slowly.

The squirrel healer nodded in agreement.

"From how many wounds and scars are on his back I wouldn't be surprised if he was beaten every day."

"Poor creature." The Abbot said. "He will probably take much time to heal in body and mind. Has he wakened since he has been brought up here to the infirmary Sister?"

"No Father." Cria said thankfully. "I'm glad too. He needs his rest, and he'll only cry out for Skipper when he wakes. Of that, I'm sure."

"And what about the message Father?" Skipper asked. "I can't be preparing for war and be watching after the little mouse, though I'd like to."

The old mouse bit his bottom lip in thought.

"That does create a conflict."

"I'll be here." Sister Cria said. "I'll tell him you'll come as soon as you're free."

"Thank you Sister." Rogth said, before dismissing himself and returning to his duties of defense.

The Father Abbot walked slowly towards the little brown mouse, deep in his much needed sleep. He turned to the squirrel and sighed as he left the infirmary.

"Call me if I am needed. I would like to talk with our young guest when he wakes."


	6. First Day of Freedom

When Taft woke he found himself laying face down on a bed, something he had never done before. Beds were for Masters and free-beast, not slave like him...and where was he? Ah, that's right, Redwall. Copper had told him about Redwall, the message, freedom...then it dawned on him. If this was Redwall, then...he gulped at the realization...then he was free. Never to be mocked, whipped or starved, never be forced to sleep in a cage, out in the bitter cold or the raging heat, never, never again! He had to tell Skipper!

He jolted. Where was Skipper? His ears suddenly caught the humming of a female voice, a voice unfamiliar to him. His instincts kicked in and he became instantly terrified and hysterical. He had no idea exactly where he was or what had happened to Rogth! What if...what if this wasn't really Redwall? What if this was some sick game Slickcast was playing? What if he was torturing the otter at that very moment? He had to save him!

"Skipper!" He squeaked in fright, pushing away from the bed. No sooner had he moved than a horrible stinging absorbed his back and he fell back down with a groan.

"Calm down young one." A kindly voice said to him. "You'll hurt yourself! Skipper is busy at the moment. He'll come to see you when he can."

"Where am I?" He was still frightened.

An old female squirrel stepped around the bed and into his view. She had a kindly face and chestnut fur, her dark green habit marked her clearly as a Sister of an order. It could be a disguise.. Taft thought wearily.

"You're in the infirmary." Sister Cria replied softly, sensing his fears. "This is Redwall Abbey, you need not be afraid here."

"What do you want from me?" The mouse asked suspiciously, the thoughts of Slickcast still running through his mind.

"Nothing, except for you to get well." The squirrel said carefully. "Go back to sleep little one, you need your rest."

"I can't." Taft said shaking his head.

"Why not?" Cria asked in wonder.

"I'm free."

The female squirrel looked at him curiously, not understanding.

"...but you need rest."

"I'm not tired." Taft said trying to look bold and unafraid. He was free, he could make his own decisions now!

"Very well then." Cria sighed, stepping near the mouse. "I'm going to check your back, though. I want to see how the infections are."

"No!" Taft screeched in fear, forgetting his bold stance. He scrambled away from the squirrel, memories of past terrors flashed into his head.

"Why?" Asked the Sister, a little taken aback. "I'm trying to help you."

"Just no." The young mouse whispered, shutting his eyes tight, once again trying to force thoughts of pain from his mind.

Cria wasn't sure what to do. It was important for the wounds on the little creature's back to be treated, and as a healer, she meant to treat them. But she didn't wish to frighten the mouse, he was already terrified and worn, adding pressure wouldn't help. So she decided to approach the matter from a different angle.

"Will you let Skipper check your back?" She asked gently, spreading her paws as a token of friendship.

The mouse was silent for a moment before responding.

"...yes." Taft nodded slightly, his eyes ever on the squirrel.

"But Skipper told me to take care of you." Sister Cria said softly and moved towards the mouse in a slow motion. "He wants me to check your back for him."

Taft pushed away from her, quivering.

"You'll hurt me." He said shaking his head at the healer.

"I promise you, I won't." Cria took another step towards the mouse.

"You will!" Taft cried, still trying to move away from the squirrel. "Slickcast did and so did his mate! They lied! Y-you could too! I want Skipper!"

"Rogth can't be here right now..."

Taft gulped, terror running up and down his spine.

"W-why not?"

"Because, Skipper is busy setting up for war against Doxtriz Gorelimb!" Cria said, trying to contain her temper. "I am here for him!"

That did it, the small creature went wild with terror.

"Dox-Doxtriz?" Taft's eyes went wide with fear. "No! He knows that Copper let me go! He's coming to get me! He'll torture me to death! He's probably killed Copper! What will I do? Where's Skipper? Let me go to him! Let me see him! Please! He won't let them get me! Please! I'm scared Doxt-" He began to rise from the bed again, trying to make a break for the door.

Cria moved forward with speed.

"Calm down little one!" She said pushing the mouse gently back down on the bed. "No beast will harm you here, you're safe."

"Skipper!" The young mouse began to cry out, struggling with the Sister. "Skipper help! Please let me go! Please! SKIPPER!"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sister Cria wiped her forehead with her paw. It was hard to believe that such a small beast could put up such a long and strenuous fight. But at least he was finally asleep. The poor old squirrel didn't think she would have been able to carry on fighting the young mouse, after all, she wasn't as young or patient as she once had been in her budding youth.

Skipper Rogth had finally come to take over watching the sleeping mouse, and Cria, though a kind beast, couldn't complain. She leaned heavily upon an infirmary table, still huffing from the encounter with the young mouse.

"I can't believe you gave him a sedative Cria!" Rogth argued. "What were you thinking?"

Sister Cria only let out a long sigh and caught her breath before speaking.

"Believe me Skipper. That mouse would never have stopped crying and screaming in fear and pain if I didn't make him drink that Valerian Root potion!"

Skipper was sitting by Taft's bedside. The young mouse was in a healthy sleep, though a medicated one. He watched the little creature's slow and steady breathing, the thin chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. It was clear that the small beast had reopened some of the wounds on his back, for the bandages Sister Cria had first placed on him when he was brought into the infirmary were now reddened with blood.

Skipper took the small, worn paw of the mouse into his own, studying the petite, sleeping face.

"Why was he so scared?" He asked the healer with genuine concern.

The squirrel sighed and sat down on a nearby bed, resting her old bones.

"I suppose it's my fault." He said, folding her paws together as she also gazed upon the patient's face. "I told him you were preparing to fight Doxtriz and he went wild. Kept saying he would come get him and kill Copper. He wanted to get out of the bed and find you, for protection, I guess. I made him stay and he thought I was trying to kill him or something. He began screaming for you until he couldn't scream anymore. Then he just cried and cried and cried. So I gave up trying to check his back and gave him some water with Valerian Root and other herbs to calm him and make him rest. I had to make him drink it, Rogth."

"It's alright Sister." The otter said with a smile, squeezing the little paw a bit. "Go get some rest. He'll be happy to wake with me by his side. He'll be ok. Go on and eat something."

"Thanks a million Rogth." The squirrel said as she left the infirmary. "The sedative will wear off soon. He'll be awake in a few minutes I wager. I'll be back to change his dressing. Maybe you can convince him to let me, eh? I'm just too tired to do it now, though I did rebandage his paw, it was bandaged when he first came, but the dressing was worn and dirty."

The otter turned a smile on the old Sister.

"Thank you, Cria. I'll see what I can do about convincing him."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taft whimpered and opened his eyes. He felt strangely well-rested and refreshed, yet another feeling unfamiliar to him. It was dark in the infirmary, and extremely quiet, but thankfully the old squirrel lady was no where to be seen. All the little mouse wanted was to find Skipper Rogth and never leave his side again. Quietly, his back racked in pain, he began to slip off the bed.

"Where do you think you're going young mate?" A heavy and sudden voice asked from behind the mouse.

Taft screeched in fear and ran; watery legged, towards the door, fleeing the mysterious voice. He had not been able to run three steps before somebeast grabbed his shoulder firmly, stopping his escape and causing him to scream in pain and fright.

"Let go! Please!" He begged the strong grip, tears springing into his eyes. "You're hurting me! Please, let me go!"

Nobeast could have known the amount of joy and relief the young mouse felt when the voice spoke again.

"Shush!" The speaker said, easing his paw on the smaller beast's shoulder. "It's me, Skipper."

The mouse turned around, tears staining his cheeks as he made out the broad, strong form of Rogth in the dark room.

"SKIPPER!" He fell into the otter's friendly, protective arms weeping. "Please don't leave me! Stay with me. Please Skipper!"

"Shh." Rogth soothed quietly, holding the mouse close. "It's alright."

He picked up the mouse, careful of the back wounds, and brought him back to the bed, setting the sniffling beast down gently. He lit a candle on the bed stand and crouched before the pitiful mouse seated on the bed.

"Now, what's all this running and screaming about?" The kindly otter asked, wiping Taft's tears away. "Sister Cria said you gave her a terrible time."

"I didn't mean to." Taft sobbed. "I-I just wanted you."

"But I can't be here all the time, mate."

"Then I'll come with you!" The mouse quickly stated, hope springing into his eyes.

"No Taft." Rogth shook his head. "You need to get better. Your back is infected, you're running a fever and you're weak and thin. You're in no condition to be helping me defend the Abbey and holt."

The mouse's shoulders sagged in disappointment.

"But..."

"No 'buts'." Skipper shook his finger at the mouse. "You stay here and get well. Be respectful to Sister Cria always, she's trying to help. Ok? That's what would make me very happy right now."

Taft looked down at his paws and let out a ragged sigh.

"Ok." He whispered.

The Skipper nodded thankfully, then remembered the request the squirrel healer had asked of him before leaving. Taking the petite mouse into his paws, he held him at a distance, looking into the sad, young eyes.

"One more thing." The otter said gently, gaining alert attention from the young rodent. "Let Sister Cria look at your back."

The little mouse shivered then looked at the otter, shaking his head.

"Sh-she'll hurt me!"

"Cria's a healer, she won't hurt you." Skipper said carefully.

"Please." The mouse pleaded sorrowfully. "I don't want her to hurt me! The v-vixen did! She-she threw me into a barrel of salt after Slickcast whipped me. She's S-slickcast's mate and she's a healer! She b-brought me into her tent, saying she would care f-for me. She lied and said she would help the..the p-pain stop! She lied! She-she l-lied..." Taft fell into sobs of helplessness and terror at the horrifying and cruel memory that replayed in his mind as a permanent scar.

The Skipper sighed. Now the otter understood Taft's actions. How could a creature be so cruel to one so young and defenseless? What he did were merely simply instincts of self defense, not just because he wanted the otter. It was only because he felt safe for the first time by the Skipper's side that he begged to stay near him. Trust was something he needed to learn to share. He drew the young mouse into a comforting hug and let the little beast cry into his shoulderfur, thinking of a new approach to take. It was clear he would have to find different ways in the future to make the tiny victim come out of his shell, and the otter was willing to do it.

"Look." He said after a while. "Cria doesn't lie. If she did, I would never have let her heal me. Here, take a look."

Gently, he pushed the small creature away and moved closer to the candlelight. Taft's eyes went wide as the otter rolled up his right sleeve and revealed a huge scar from elbow to paw. Whatever had caused it, must have been extremely sharp and think, judging from the width and size of it. The fur about the mark was gone and the skin tissue was white, casting a negative look beside the otter's glossy, dark fur.

"I got this when I was fighting a wildcat. I killed it, but it cut me up a bit. Actually, it broke this arm. But good old Cria healed me up." He paused and looked calmly at the mouse. "I promise, she won't harm you, Taft. Won't you let her help you, for me?"

The look in Taft's eyes made Rogth twitch, but the little mouse nodded slowly, gulping down his terror. He had his complete trust in the otter. Good. That was a start towards the right step. Sometimes all it takes is a little understanding and a safe smile to begin to sew up old wounds.

Skipper left the mouse on the bed and went to the door, stopping a passing abbey-beast. He sent the creature to get Sister Cria so she could change the bandages on the mouse's back. It wasn't a long wait until she came in, and Taft eyed her in pure fear as she set about making sup preparations.

When she had finished and was ready, she came over and gently asked him to lie back on his stomach. Taft glanced at Rogth trying to say that he didn't want to do it; however the otter only smiled and nodded reassurance at the young beast. The mouse squeezed his eye shut and bit his lip, sighing as he lay down. The otter chieftain took the petite paw into his once again, as a sign of not to worry. Taft gripped the paw as tightly as possible while Sister Cria removed the dressing. Stifling his whimpers, Taft silently let hot tears escape him as the wounds were cleansed and redressed with herbs. The young mouse was truly petrified, and Skipper didn't blame him.

Once Cria had finished, she left the room at Skipper's signal. She cast once pitiful look on the patient before leaving. As she reached the door she turned back and said in a light whisper.

"I'll send some food up and tell Father Abbot that he's awake." And with that, she was gone.

The moment the door shut, Taft let out a long shuddered sigh and opened his watery eyes. His face showed relief that the situation had passed smoothly.

"See?" Rogth smiled at the mouse, releasing his paw. "She didn't harm you."

"No, she didn't…" Taft agreed quietly, as if not completely satisfied.

He was silent as the otter pulled a blanket over the mouse's form, tucking him into the bed warm and securely. As the Skipper made to blow out the candle and let the mouse go back to resting the small voice of Taft began to speak again.

"Rogth?" He asked, shivering a little, despite the sheets.

"Yep, mate? What's the problem?"

There was a further silence, it was as if Taft wasn't sure he wanted to say what he was going to. The otter waited patiently for the little rodent to make up his mind. Once he had, the petite creature began to speak in a shaking and unsure voice.

"Why…why did Slickcast beat me?" Taft asked, looking into the eyes of his protectors, his two green orbs were terrified and questioning. "Even when I did my work…he-he whipped me until I…I thought I would die...Why did he do that? I tried really hard to please him, so he wouldn't beat me…but he did anyways. He told me my work was sloppy and horribly done…then-then he would beat me…but why? You don't beat me…Copper never beat me…what did I do wrong to Slickcast?" Tears filled the little beast's eyes. "Why did his mate hurt my back and…and Sister Cria not? I don't understand…am…did I do something wrong?"

Rogth didn't know how to reply at first. He saw the innocence in the question he had been asked. It amazed him that even after all the torture and horrors the young mouse had seen, he was still a curious, learning creature, just like any other dibbun. The only difference was that he questioned the terrors he had been put though, others questioned little useless things. Well, it was a big difference, but he was still a little mouse, and his words were proof of that. He watched the tears of confusion and loss roll down Taft's cheeks. So young...

"Not all beasts are good, Taft." He said gently, brushing his paw though Taft's headfur. "Somebeasts don't know themselves, why they do things…you didn't do anything wrong, little friend. Sometimes cruelty blocks out a beast's sight and care. You were just caught in the middle of it. You don't need to worry those things anymore, you're safe here."


	7. I Stand Accused

After Taft's departure had caused a stir in the vermin camp, though not a strong one. Word of how Slickcast had searched high and low for the mouse, with no find spread throughout the horde of raiders. How he had returned to the camp disgraced and humiliated by the fact that such a young and weak creature could give him the slip, was the main topic. That was, at least, until they heard that the little slave had no longer belonged to him, but to his brother. So the fire of rumor spread through the camp, giving the second born of Doxtriz Gorelimb a bad name.

Though Slickcast had not heard the whispers of himself, he had heard those of his brother. Determined to show that he was not at fault for loosing the slave, he bounded into Copper's tent, barking in fury and spite. The younger fox barely gave so much as a curse as the insults poured on his head and he was accused of treason. It was as though he had expected it and was well prepared.

"I knew something wasn't right when you bought that slave!" Slickcast hissed in his brother's face, a knife against the smaller fox's throat. "You're a sick pacifist, you rot! Sending that damned slave off to Redwall to destroy our plans!"

Copper lay against a table, his paws on his sibling's wrists to prevent the knife from slipping. He wasn't as strong as Slickcast, but he was smarter. Let the bloody beast gurgle all he wanted about treason and betrayal, after all, he was the master of it. However, he couldn't help but think that the blade was a bit too close to his neck. Lashing out with his footpaws, he sent the bigger fox backwards onto Copper's bed, sending a furious glare towards Slickcast.

"Your mad, Slick." He said sharply. "What the hell are you talking about? Sending a sniveling, ill-fed, useless and near-dead slave to warn off Father's attack? What? Have you gone mad? That very same scum is probably laying dead in the woods. There's no way he could have survived such a trek in the snow alone!"

Slickcast stepped closer to his brother, his black eyes flashing and putrid breath blowing over the younger fox's face.

"Exactly my point, you helped him."

Copper kept his death-gaze on the elder's, wishing fervently that he could just gab a dagger into his carkus and leave him to rot. He had no loyalty to the fox, brother or not. But he knew, such a thing would spell out his guilt on the charges, so he poured water on the desire.

"You're insane." He snorted, leaning in on his brother. "Why would I care for a group of idiotic and pathetic woodlanders? I'm not stupid, Slick. Such a thing would be dealt with by Father, and we both know the punishment for betrayal."

Slickcast hissed a curse and bent into his sibling, it was clearly a war between wills.

"All I know, little brother, is that you bought a slave from me, and the night before last that same slave was seen escaping from your tent with a satchel. He was heading towards Redwall when we lost track of him. Now I've been very patient. I've gathered possibilities together and sorted them, and each road ends with you."

Copper grinned, this game was a hard one, he knew he'd have to play his cards right or it was over.

"You must be very desperate to get rid of me then." He walked to the tent flap and opened it, his brown eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "You tell me this, Slick. You sold me the slave, you knew him the best, he feared you more then any of us. Now you come here accusing me of buying a slave, then letting the little wretch slip from my paws freely. Ah, but brother, I tied that little beast up before I laid down to rest that night. Somebeast freed him and ordered him to go." He turned a glare on the other fox. "Somebeast he feared and would obey, and now I have one less slave."

Slickcast stood there in rage, gripping his dagger in fury and contempt.

"You dare to accuse me of such treachery?" He yelled, only causing his brother to shrug carelessly.

"As you have just done to me, dear brother. I am merely stating possibilities that you have overlooked." He spread his paw, indicating to the camp. "In truth, anybeast out there could have freed him without my knowing. Because at the time that you claim he disappeared I was with our Father discussing battle tactics on how to bring Redwall down."

Slickcast stood there, flaring sparks of anger. He watched as Copper closed the flap and looked at his brother with his hard mud eyes.

"Now is not the time to discuss what happened, but what's to be done." The younger fox stated.

Slick could take no more of the insolence of his sibling; he stomped forward, roaring his rage.

"Exactly my dear brother!" He hissed, pushing Copper aside as he went for the entrance. "Guards! Come and place this pathetic excuse I have for a brother and place him in chains! NOW!"

Copper sighed as a rat and weasel approached, ready to do the will of their ranking officer. He had expected this, it was just a boring process to him.

"You really have a temper brother." He didn't even struggle when his paws were pulled behind him and secured with heavy chains. "What will you tell our Father, eh? Maybe I'm just bound to...disappear as it were."

Slickcast was once again in his sibling's face, fire dancing in his eyes. He was now actually enjoying himself, despite the words Copper had spoken previously.

"Father shall be the one to cast judgment on you, filthy scum!" He flashed his dagger beneath the younger fox's chin. "I shall follow the rules he has laid out for us, though I hope he allows me to take part in the execution. You don't deserve to be killed by such sloppy creatures as those beneath my rank."

Copper sighed again, a small smile on his lips, and obviously not fazed.

"You're so sure I'll be executed aren't you?"

Slickcast sneered gleefully, raising Copper's chin with the knife.

"Indeed. Though, you could have done much under my rule. Ah, well, luck ran out for you, I suppose."

The younger brother cocked his head, ignoring the blood now running down his neckfur in a thin line.

"I'm so sore in the heart to disappoint you, Slick!" He said sarcastically in a dark tone. "Tis a good thing love is not lost between us."

The absolute insolence of the beast! It was obvious to everybeast present that Copper was pulling his brother's nerves.

"Save it, Copper!" Slickcast snarled. "You'll be executed all right, I've got witnesses!"

Copper rolled his eyes as the large fox waved his paw and a pine marten and stoat came forward, looks of eagerness on their faces. He stared at them a few moments, taking their presence in. It was not long before he broke into soft chuckling, much to the confusion of the surrounding vermin.

"What's so funny, deadface?" Slick growled impatiently, bewildered.

Copper eased his snickers and grinned at his sibling, shaking his head.

"Nothing, brother, nothing. Come, let's go pay Father a visit and get this whole thing resolved shall we?"

"Fine." The elder of the foxes hissed. "But the only way this will be resolved is with your head on a pike!"

Copper shrugged.

"Ah, well, at least he won't eat my corpse, eh?"

Pushed forward, Copper was forced from the tent and made to walk through the camp towards the tent of his Father. Though he believed he could deal with this problem easily, he could not help but cast his eyes on the heads of past conspirators', lining the outskirt of the tent on spikes. It was a fearful sight and a disturbing one, one that Copper tended to avoid. Though he never said it (for it would surely mean death), he thought that showing off the bodies of the defeated was a poor way to show one's power. Surprise and technique was what he preferred. He needed no token from the dead to show his worth.

As they entered the double-tent, everybeast went down on their knees, awaiting the presence of their leader, Doxtriz the Slaver, as he was told of their arrival. They did not have to wait long before a strong, powerful-looking fox with a sweeping black cape, entered the tent. His black eyes gleamed with a dangerous, overwhelming power, his fur was a dark red, like that of blood and his clean and sharp teeth overlapped his bottom lip, giving him a fierce and treacherous look. The muscles in his arms and legs were sturdy and unyielding, the build of a beast worth fearing, hordebeast or victim. A beast of few words, but a beast avoided greatly

The pitch eyes fell upon the chained fox and his bowing brother, and he let out a snort of annoyance as he ordered them to rise in his dark, sinister tone. Sitting in his wooden throne-like chair, the fox waved his eldest son forward; he was ready to hear the charges.

"My Father," Slickcast said, bowing again, this time lower. "I come before your almighty presence to present a disturbing find for your judgment."

He paused out of respect and slowly rose.

"Speak, Slickcast, my heir." Doxtriz said forcefully. "What is this disturbing find you gravel on about?"

"My Lord and Father, I humbly accuse my only brother of treachery and betrayal to your own self." The fox waved a paw towards his captive brother. "Not four days ago, my sibling purchased a slave from me, a mouse. On the night before this last, that same slave was seen escaping towards our target with a satchel in paw. My beasts chased the scum, but he somehow managed to slip us. He could not have gotten away without help, my Lord. I have searched the camp scourging for clues, when I came upon these two beasts." He indicated the pine marten and stoat. "They claim to have seen, Copper, my brother, your son, give supplies to the chain-beast and send him off about the tenth hour of the night, towards our target, Redwall. I believe he has become a pacifist towards the victims of our work, my most powerful Father."

There was a long silence that followed Slickcast's list charges. Doxtriz stared hard at his older son, gazing into the eyes, identical to his own. After a few moments, he turned his glare at Copper, the smaller and calmer of his two sons. He observed the eyes, face and fur of the younger fox, all details about him coming from his mother's side, unlike Slickcast. The elder fox had purely taken after his father, the strong body, the blood-red fur, the heartless actions, he was his father's son, through and through. But Copper, Copper was special. While his brother contained the muscle, power and looks, he held the brains, the stealth and the cunning that his mother had processed. Yet even amongst that, there was something strange about him that Doxtriz never overlooked, it was a sense of honor. Something that woodlanders and goodbeasts are known for, not foxes. It was actually this same honor that caused Copper not only to be the younger, but the less favored son of the raider.

"What do you say of these crimes, Copper?" The giant fox asked. "Have you indeed turned against us?"

Copper, despite himself, let out a sigh.

"My Lord, I have no such feelings for the weaker beasts we battle." He stated plainly. "I can disprove these charges without issue, as it takes up our time. So if you will allow me, Sire, I would do so."

Slickcast wondered curiously as his father nodded permission and ordered the chains removed. He had done much work to attach the ends and come up with a solution to the mysterious disappearance of the slave, and he was not about to see it go to ruin.

"Is this wise, my father?" He blurted out, forgetting his place. "The fox could say anything to change your mind!"

Doxtriz raised an eyebrow at the outburst.

"Am I so quick to be manipulated, Slickcast?" He asked darkly, causing the younger fox's heart to stick in his throat.

"No Sire, I simply meant..."

"SLIENCE!" Gorelimb barked, baring his teeth at his son. "Let my judgment dispel all your thoughts and doubts! I have done so always to this point, and I shall continue to do so! When this is your horde, you may do as you will. But as of right now, it is mine and so I make the solutions, understood?"

Slickcast wisely chose not to grumble as he responded.

"Yes, Father."

Doxtriz nodded his head and turned his charred eyes on Copper, standing quietly, awaiting command.

"Begin."


	8. Abbot Illian

Taft sat on his bed gazing out the window of the infirmary, watching the abbey beasts at their happy work. He couldn't help but feel alone as he watched the dibbuns his age prance about in merriment in the falling snow. Maybe when he was well, he could join in their happy games and maybe even laugh along with them, that is, if he learned how. He'd never contained such a carefree feelings before, not like them. As a slave, a good day was when your master wasn't whipping you and you had a enough of food to help you get through the night. He'd had more bad days then good under Slickcast.

There was a light knock on the door, though Taft didn't understand why, it was an infirmary after all, not a private bedroom. He said nothing as an old, grey mouse in a mud-brown habit peeked through the door and in at the tiny creature, alone on his bed.

"Mind if I come in?" He asked, looking over his glass spectacles.

Taft didn't respond to the old mouse, he only watched in wonder and a slight sense of fear as the beast showed himself in.

"How are you feeling today?" The old one questioned, as he drew near. "Have you eaten?"

Taft nodded a little, hesitant nod, not eager to speak to this new beast. He rather wished that the elderly mouse would just go away and leave him to himself and his thoughts, as lonely as they might be. However, such a wish was not to be granted, for the strange mouse only stepped closer to the bed, making Taft shift away carefully.

"I'm Abbot Illian." The old one continued. "But you can call me Abbot or Father." He chuckled. "Or just Father Abbot."

Taft still remained silent, taking in everything about the elder mouse and analyzing it, fearful of deceit behind the kind stance the Abbot took.

"So..." Abbot Illian sat down by the bed and folded his paws, looking over his glasses expectantly. "What's your name then, little one?"

Taft wasn't sure if he could trust this old mouse, to him, everybeast he met were under suspicion. It was a harmless question, but did he want to answer it?

The Abbot read Taft's uneasy gaze easily. He didn't blame the little creature for fearing everybeast he met. He had, after all, suffered much under older and stronger beasts, while he could do nothing in his own defense. He was wary of everybeast in a just fashion, an understandable one. It would take time, kindness and patience to finally get the young beast to trust again. Skipper had gained the little beast's trust by the way he had acted towards the small mouse's night outcry. The tiny creature had been so used to being beaten as punishment for crying out in his sleep, that when the otter was soft with him, he latched onto the big chieftain, seeking protection. Other creatures would have to earn his trust the long way.

"Well, you don't have to speak to me if you don't want to." The Abbot said kindly. "We can just sit here and silently watch the beauty of winter outside, if you like."

He turned his gaze to the window, watching the cheery scene below, Taft stared intently at his paws in silence, biting his lip. He was still deciding on whether he liked the old mouse or not. And so, a long silence followed, the only sound was that of the elder's ruff breathing and the pounding of Taft's heart as he summoned enough courage to speak.

"I-I hate winter." He said finally, turning away from the window.

The old mouse raised an eyebrow, his voice soft as he spoke.

"Why is that?"

Taft shrugged, keeping his eyes down and fiddled with the sleeve of his beloved tunic, the one Copper had given him. Again, he was hesitant on whether to speak or remain silent. Discussing his own feelings was something alien to him.

"Because it's cold outside." He said quietly. "I hated being locked up in my cage out in the snow...I couldn't go to sleep like I could in spring or summer. So I was always tired, I would mess up on things I was told to do and then Slickcast would..." His voice trailed off and he stared intently at his sheets, as if trying to understand why they were there. "There's nothing good about winter." He finished, not willing to continue.

The Abbot sighed silently, cocking his head to one side. He studied the little, worried face awhile before speaking, keeping his tone light.

"There are good things about winter." He said gently, earning a watery-eyed look from the young mouse. "You can have snowball fights, build forts and make snow angels. And the beauty of freshly laid snow, glistening in the sunlight is a breathtaking experience, one irreplaceable."

Taft only shrugged at the good-sounding ideals of winter.

"What good are those things when you can't even do them?" He said sourly.

The old mouse sighed, understanding the feelings of the mouse.

"You can do those things now." He said gently.

Taft shook his head.

"I'm not like them." He said bluntly.

"Like who?" Illian asked, looking over his spectacles once again.

"Like those other beasts my age out there." Taft said, nodding at the window. "I'll never be like them."

"Ah, I see." The Abbot said, cocking his head in thought. "Don't let that worry you, young one. You just focus on getting better and then we'll worry about that."

They were silent for a few more moments; this is, until Taft thought up a desperate question.

"Where's Skipper?" He asked eagerly. The little mouse had fallen asleep with the strong otter by his side and had woke to find him missing. However, he didn't question Sister Cria on it when she came in with a trey of food for him, his fear of her hadn't died down completely yet.

"Skipper has gone off to gather some squirrels and otters for a surprise ambush on Doxtriz's camp." The Abbot said seriously. "If all goes well, he'll be back as tonight with the recruits."

Taft felt tears well in his eyes as he thought of the massive red fox battling 'his' Skipper, he turned away, rubbing them to be free of the moister.

"Nothing goes well with Doxtriz."

The Abbot nodded knowingly.

"Aye, I've been meaning to ask you a few questions about him. But we'll wait until your well and healed for that. It could help things go smoothly for Skipper. If you don't want to speak to us though, I won't force you to answer the questions."

Taft sat in a moment of thought and then shook his head.

"I'll tell you, for Skipper." He said quietly.

"Thank you, young one." The old mouse said, standing up. "Rest yourself now. When you are well I shall have somebeast give you a tour of our grand abbey. But in the meantime. Just focus on getting well. Alright?"

Taft nodded quietly, and then turned his gaze back to the window and the young care-free beasts he envied so much.

As the Abbot made for the door he had a thought and turned back around, smiling at the small beast.

"If you like, I could send up a few abbey beasts about your age and size. They're very eager to meet you, you know."

Taft's snapped up as his eyes filled with confusion and a slight sense of fear.

"W-why would they want to meet me?" He asked, shivering a little.

The old abbot's smile became soft and pitying, had the little creature not heard of friendship?

"They want to play with you and talk to you, little one. You know, they want to bond with you."

Taft raised a quizzical eyebrow at the old mouse.

"Why would they want to be tied to me? Ropes hurt."

Abbot Illian sighed, teaching this creature would take time and a gentle paw.

"You know," He said kindly. "-be friends, support each other, like each other and protect each other, that sort of thing."

That seemed to stir Taft's mind, and he twitched his tail in thought.

"Oh, you mean like Skipper and Taft?" He asked, cocking his head to one side. "They were nice to me. Is that what you mean? Being nice to each other?"

The old mouse nodded.

"It's called 'being friends'." He said gently, allowing the information to seep into Taft's mind.

The little mouse nodded and looked down at his sheets once again; dwelling on the new theory of friendship he had just learned. As the Abbot turned a second time to leave, he heard Taft call him gently, in an unsure voice.

"Abbot, sir?" He said quietly.

Illain spun around to face the little creature again, a soft smile on his face.

"What is it, little friend?"

Taft bit his lip a while before finally gaining enough courage to ask his question.

"W-was Copper a friend?" He stumbled lowly. "He...he was...sort of...nice to me. He fixed my paw without hurting me, see?" Taft held up his little bandaged paw for observation, then slowly put it down. "A rat stepped on it, hard, and he told it to leave me alone, then he fixed my paw up. Nobeast ever did that to me before. They all let me get beaten and whipped, they never healed me. Copper didn't seem to like it...but...was he good?"

The little mouse raised his eyes to his elders, once more full of sore wonder.

The Father Abbot cocked his head thought. Finally he nodded, slipping his paws into the sleeves of his habit.

"I think that would make him a fine beast."

Taft looked at his paw, pulling his lips in thought, then tilted his head, saying nothing more. He hadn't told the Abbot all the bad things Copper had done, because he couldn't understand it himself. Yes, the fox had freed him, but he feared the beast just as much as any vermin. He was unsure why the fox had released him, yes for the note and Redwall, but...it just didn't make sense, he'd never thought twice about Taft until Copper had talked with his brother. The fox acted like a vermin, to a certain, strange point, and any further thoughts on the fox scared Taft, so he dropped it.

"Rest well, little one." Abbot Illian said just before he slipped out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

The tiny patient watched as the old mouse left silently, leaving him alone once again. It wasn't that Taft liked to be alone, but he did feel at peace when nobeast was near him. That way he didn't have to analyze them to figure out if they were harmful or friendly. Most beasts he had come across in the abbey so far, had all been kind and gentle to him, but that didn't smooth his cautious mind. Slickcast's mate, Blackivy, had been gentle, only to turn around and be completely cruel to him. It wasn't a risk worth taking, trusting everybeast he met, it only led to disaster and pain.


	9. Trial

Copper moved swiftly as soon as the chains were removed from his paws. Racing forward, he grabbed the pine marten and stoat that were the supposed 'witnesses' and then chucked the marten at the guards that had been holding him. They caught the marten with stunned expressions on their faces.

"Bind him and remove him from the tent and ear-shot." The fox ordered firmly as he guided the stoat to a chair.

The vermin guards were hesitant to obey the command, and looked to Doxtriz and Slickcast for guidance, completely confused.

"Just what bloody hellgates are you doing, Copper?" Slick growled as his father nodded to the guards. They grabbed the marten and bound him, leading him out and away from the tent. Of course, he was struggling and just as dazed as the other vermin in the tent.

"I'm proving your acquisitions wrong, my dear brother." Came the reply as the younger fox shoved the stoat, who was, in fact, Getter the winer, onto a wooden chair. The stoat whined as his back slammed into the neck of the chair, but Copper's glare cut him short.

Slickcast hissed in anger and opposition, looking to his father to see his reaction. The large fox seemed to be taking the scene in with interest. Copper was obviously being more outward then usual, and Doxtriz seemed only to be pleased by this.

"What is it you plan to do exactly, Copper?" The blood-red fox asked, raising an eyebrow.

The fox bowed respectfully to his father and then turned to the stoat and the hordbeasts that served as Doxtriz's captains and advisers.

"It's simple, my Lord." He said calmly, studying his audience. "I can tell you for a fact that this particular stoat, Getter by name, was at the wrong place and wrong time when the mouse was seen escaping." He paused, as if unsure whether to continue. Then, after seeing Slickcast's triumphant face, he quickly picked up from where he left off. "He was drunk, Father. At the time of the mouse's escape, Getter here was drunk on wine and rum."

Several hordebeasts gasped and Doxtriz glared at the stoat from his seat. The stoat who cringed slightly under the gaze, shivering as the eyes of death bore into his own. Everybeast in the entire horde knew the rules, though they may have hated them. Doxtriz was sorely against drunkenness and laziness, beasts caught doing such things were often made into examples. In other words their shredded corpses were left on the ground for the birds to eat their flesh. Aye, if there was one thing the red fox hated, it was drunk beasts.

"Go on." He ordered, keeping his black eyes on the stoat.

Copper nodded.

"The day before I bought the mouse from Slickcast this very stoat had interrupted the mouse as he went to do Slickcast's bidding. He beat the mouse, telling him that there was no wine left. However there was, my Lord, I saw it myself. Of course, upon seeing the mouse belonged to my brother and was not the property of Getter to punish, I ended the beating the moment I approached them-"

"Pacifist!" Slickcast barked, pointing accusingly at his brother, who only rolled his eyes. "He has just claimed himself of being guilty of the crimes, Father!"

Copper glared at his elder sibling for interrupting him, Doxtriz only waved a paw at his eldest son, as a gesture of silence.

"I have only heard him claim to protecting your property and your right to your property Slickcast." He said darkly, dangerously. "As to the crimes, they are of sending the mouse to alert Redwall, so keep your mouth sealed until he is finished speaking!"

Slickcast flared in anger and humiliation, sending his piercing gaze towards Copper. The young fox outwardly ignored his brother and continued speaking at his father's bidding.

"As I was saying, my Lord, of that situation, there was indeed wine left. The barrels in Getter's tent are proof enough of that. I had my own beasts check on this the moment Slickcast seemed to have something on me. So this stoat, beat a slave that did not belong to him and also stole from Slickcast's own stock of wine!"

Slickcast's head snapped up in rage, his eyes bore into the stoat's head. Steal from him? If he ever saw that beast alone he'd cut his throat and leave his corpse on the ground as a warning! He should have been more careful about who he chose to speak in this situation. If the stoat survived, he would wish he had never accepted the gold he had been given for this job. He owed him for the wine.

"You have told us much of Getter's crimes, young fox, but what of your own?" The sleek voice of Slylust, a ferret, Doxtriz's adviser and right-pawed beast, crawled it's way to the vermins' ears.

Copper glanced at the black-clad figure standing tall beside his father. He hated that ferret with a passion, but withheld the scowl that nearly found it's way to his lips. Slylust was a monster, plain and simple. He had no strands of glory to worry over, no code of respect. At least Doxtriz had his lines drawn and his rules laid out, the ferret on the other paw...He killed who he willed and did as he willed. The only reason he lay calm under the blood fox's paw was because he could get something out of the situation. He would never be there if he didn't profit. Doxtriz had obviously made a deal with him, otherwise there is no possible way that Slylust would follow orders.

"I am saying, sir," Copper said to the ferret blandly. "-that these two beasts, the marten and this stoat, drank the night and morn away and were practically unconscious at the time of the mouse's escape! The proof lies in the fact that they did not report for guard duty in the morning and the empty barrels and cups laid out in their tent. My beasts have informed me of these facts. This means that they did not see any such thing and that they are falsely accusing me. Probably paid and hired to point the finger at me."

Doxtriz raised an eyebrow and nodded in a serious mode.

"It would seem so, but have you further evidence? This is very little to go on."

Copper nodded and stepped directly in front of the stoat, his eyes locking with Getter's.

"I will ask this beast one question, a simple one. The proof of what I have said will lie in his own words."

"Only one?" Slylust asked, his dark eyes skeptical. "This will be interesting."

Everybeast leaned forward, wondering what the question would be. Doxtriz was particularly interested on how his younger son would make the stoat speak the truth with only one question. If the fox could pull it off, the red fox's opinion of him would certainly rise a few ranks.

Getter shifted uncomfortably as he waited for the question, determined not to give away the fact that he had been paid for this job. The look in Copper's eyes, however, seemed confident and defeating. The stoat gulped as he looked into the fox's eyes uneasily.

When Copper spoke, nearly everybeasts jaw dropped at the simplicity of the question.

"At which side of my tent was I standing on when you saw me give the mouse the satchel and then sent him off? North, South, East or West?"

The vermin instantly began murmuring in wonder and confusion. What did Copper hope to accomplish by such a question?

"W-what?" The stoat asked, completely bewildered.

Copper nodded his head calmly.

"You heard me, Getter. Which side was I standing?"

Doxtriz's keen eyes watched the face of the stoat as he rolled his eyes in thought.

"Answer the question or I'll use your guts as a belt!" He warned dangerously.

Getter bit his lip and was quiet a moment before responding. Just choose a side! He thought desperately to himself. It doesn't bloody matter!

"The South!" He said in a wilting voice, not seeing the mistake he made. Actually, nobeast had...that is...just yet.

Copper nodded then turned away from the stoat, bowing before his father.

"What did you hope to accomplish by such a pointless act?" Slickcast sneered from the side, he thought his brother a complete fool.

Copper only smiled mysteriously at his brother then turned to the guards.

"Bring the marten and take this stoat outside, so he cannot hear what is said."

The guards bowed and did his bidding.

Once the marten sitting stiffly on the chair, the young fox asked his father for permission to continue. Of course, the red vermin did.

Copper faced the vermin counsel as he approached the marten, his eyes reading the faces of each of the vermin.

"Now is the time to find the truth in these two beasts." He said, gesturing a paw at the marten. "If they prove to be lying, then according to my father's laws, they die. If I am the one playing false, then I shall, according to my father's law, be the beast to die. For all beasts involved, the punishment is torture to the death."

Craig, the pine marten gulp audibly as he listened to the fox. He instantly wished that he had not accepted Slickcast's prizes. Death if he was found lying? Was it bloody worth it over a pile of gold and barrel load of wine?

The young fox strolled in a circle before the present vermin, he held up a claw.

"One question shall make the truth of the matter seen." Stopping in front of the marten he glared into the vermin's eyes, just as had done to Getter. "At which side of my tent was I standing on when you saw me give the mouse the satchel and then, as you claim, sent him off to warn Redwall?"

The audience froze. It was clear what Copper was doing, and yet it was so simple! Doxtriz was indeed impressed by the way his son was handling the situation. It was a sly, and indeed easy way of clearing the path to the truth. He sat, once again studying the face of the beast upon the chair, awaiting an answer.

The tent was silent as the marten spoke in a quivering voice, sealing Copper's test.

"West."


	10. Token the Terror

Taft sat on his bed in the infirmary, looking in wonder at Sister Cria's healing book. She had seen that he was bored and alone in the infirmary, as no other beasts were ill, and had kindly given him her book of herbs to look at. Skipper had told her that the little mouse could not read or write and so she thought the book was perfect, as it contained pictures and samples of herbs and plants used for healing rather then just words. The little mouse had shaking taken the book from her paws when she offered it to him, not sure of what to do.

The first time he had opened it, it was upside-down. However, Sister Cria said nothing, as he seemed to be a little relieved with something to do. As a slave, he had always had a job to do or at least one in mind, and Taft's small head was just getting used to having nothing to do but heal.

He was now, (having looked over the book three or four times already) staring hard at the lines and shapes that covered the pages. The strange markings may have meant something to Cria and other learned creatures, but to a mere slave, they were scribbles. He peered hard at the words, wishing his brain would finally see the meanings, only to sigh and let his shoulders sag in disappointment.

He had seen writing before, of course, Slickcast sometimes had scrolls and books in his tent. However, the tiny mouse was rarely permitted to touch them, let alone study them without receiving a beating. He had always wondered how his master could sit there, hours at a time, staring at a scroll, his eyes moving across the lines. Taft was usually curled in a corner or working in the fox's tent when his master would sit down with one of them. Occasionally he would glace at the mouse to see that he was working or to bark an order to him, but for the most part, he stayed quiet, reading the parchment easily.

Taft had thought about learning to read and write before, but that was all in his 'fairy tales' that he thought up while locked in his cage. Alone in that wooden prison, he knew the facts in his heart. Slaves don't read and write, they work, they have no use for such things. Besides, what vermin would want to waste their time teaching him anyway? Maybe now...now that he was here, in an Abbey, they would teach him...No, why would they? He was an inconvenience to them, a burden. Taft felt tears well in his eyes, was it so much to ask? Would they bother? How could he ask beasts he was scared to death of to teach him to read?

Closing the book sadly, the small mouse laid on his side, letting tears of loneliness and longing roll down his cheeks.

To his fright, the door opened, a hedgehog and red squirrel entered. The squirrel was holding a smaller squirrel about Taft's age. He looked extremely ill and pale, despite his golden-red fur. He was semi-conscious as he was carried to the beds. The hedgehog and squirrel laid him on the bed next to Taft, their eyes reflecting worry for the young beast.

"Get Sister Cria." The older squirrel told the hedgehog, and the beast went scurrying out of the infirmary in search of the old healer.

Sighing as he covered the younger beast with a blanket, the squirrel bit his lip.

"You'll be fine Token, don't worry. Sister Cria will take good care of you. She always has."

Taft studied the look of sadness on the older squirrel's face. Not the type you'd see on slaves, like the hopelessness he was used to, but a caring sadness. Something unknown to him. He stared intently at the squirrel's face, trying to understand the emotions that played there.

He jumped with fear as the beast suddenly looked over at him. His kind blue eyes drained their sorrow at the sight of the scared mouse. Who now hiding partly behind his covers and staring with frightened green eyes.

"Well, hello there." The squirrel said gently. "You must be Taft. Skipper told me about you." His eyes fell on the ill young squirrel on the bed. "He said that you and Token would get along great." The last sentence contained a tint of dread and coated of sadness.

At that moment, Sister Cria came hurrying into the room, wearing a face of worry.

"How is he Kirtan?" She asked, addressing the squirrel.

Kirtan shook his head, brushing his paw through Token's headfur.

"He's bad Cri, and it just keeps getting worse."

Cria nodded then put a steady paw on the squirrel's shoulder.

"I have to treat him again. Go wait get some rest, Kirt. You need it after all that scouting. I'll call you when I'm done."

The red squirrel hesitated then nodded sullenly, his face pale with concern. He took one more look at the little squirrel and left the room in a strained silence.

Taft watched as the healer did her work. She often muttered to herself as she set about mixing herbs and looked over the young beast on the bed. Shaking her head gravely, she approached the young beast and lifted the squirrel's head. She gave him a cup of strange mixture to drink.

"Come on, Token, drink it up. Kirt's worried sick over you."

Taft silently observed the healer as she worked further, restlessly. He began to feel his eyes droop and unintentionally let out loud yawn. The young mouse slapped his paw over his mouth as Cria looked up in his direction. She smiled and nodded over to him.

"Ya best get some rest, Taft." She said kindly. "Skipper said he'd come to see you in the morning. I don't want him to think that I didn't take care of you. So just ignore me and sleep, alright?"

The young mouse nodded slowly and shifted further into his covers and pillow. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the bed over his body. He thought of his cage and how cold it had been in the winter. It was so different being comfortable, filled and warm. It was a secure feeling in a way. Letting out a sigh he laid still, allowing the cloud sleep to cover his mind.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taft's ears caught the sound of muffled voice, talking quietly to itself. He groaned and pried his eyes opened. Realizing that his head was under the blankets, Taft peeked out from under the covers. Sunlight streamed through the windows and stained the stone floor. And sitting on the bed next to Taft was the young squirrel.

He was muttering and munching on a scone dripping honey onto the sheets. He had a scrawny and skinny frame, and was indeed a frail looking beast, now that Taft got a good look at him. He had sea-green eyes and his golden-red fur glistened in the morning sunlight. The squirrel looked a lot healthier then he had the night before. He seemed, obviously to be more alive and not as pale. Humming to himself, he nonchalantly licked his paws and looked down at the sheets to see the mess he had made. Mumbling something about 'how sister Cria would thrash him' he began looking about for something to wipe the covers clean. It was then that he noticed the young mouse on the bed beside him.

"Hello." He said with a warm smile. "My name's Token. Do you happen to have a kerchief or something? I need to clear this honey before Sister Cria gets back."

Taft hesitantly shook his head, his head still partly under the blankets.

"Are you scared of me?" The squirrel asked with a smirk.

Taft nodded, sliding further into the bedding.

"Well, you're the first." Token sighed. "No one really even notices me anyway, not enough to be sacred of me. Though, Dellon would certainly find that amusing. So don't tell him you're scared, ok?"

Taft nodded a second time, though he didn't even know who Dellon was.

"Can you talk?" Token asked, cocking his head. "Because you certainly don't seem like you can."

"I-I can..." Taft stuttered.

"So what's your name?" The squirrel obviously had an outright personality.

"T-taft."

Token grinned.

"Ok Taft...you don't need to hide from me. I doubt I could harm you even if I wanted to. Come on out."

Gingerly, the young mouse slide out from under the covers and sat up. He looked down at his paws, not sure of what to make of the squirrel.

"So why are you here?" Token asked, hugging his knees. "Where'd you come from? I've never seen you before."

Taft stared at his paws, not wishing to meet the squirrel's eyes.

"I-I was a Slickcast's slave." He bit the side of his lip in nervousness. "Skipper brought me here."

Token's eyes went wide.

"You were a slave?" He asked in a shocked tone. "Did they whip you? Is that why you're up here?"

Taft nodded, causing Token's eyes to flash in anger. He ground his teeth and clenched his paws in fury.

"Dirty vermin! I would've killed them for hurting you! I'm not afraid of them! I wouldn't have let them whip you!" He looked at the small mouse with sincere young eyes. "You're safe here Taft. If those vermin ever try to come and get you back I'd lay them flat!"

Taft looked at the squirrel in shock. He'd never heard of a beast not being scared of Slickcast, or willing to hurt the fox! Instantly, he felt that the squirrel was a trustworthy and brave. He'd never let Slickcast hurt him! He was a friend, just like the Abbot had said. Just like Skipper!

"S-so w-hy are you here?" The mouse asked hesitantly. He watched in shock how the squirrel suddenly became downcast and angry.

"I'm a cripple." He spat in a angry voice. "I was born this way and Dellon loves to use it against me. I'm always getting dizzy spells and sometimes I just collapse when I'm upset. Kirtan doesn't know what's wrong with me. He said I've been this way since birth."

Taft gazed strangely at the squirrel. Every cripple he had ever heard of in his life were slaves, and they were usually killed because they were considered useless. Seeing one before him alive and untouched was strange to him. Obviously these beasts didn't kill the useless.

Token caught Taft's gaze and glared at the mouse.

"What? Are you going to hate me just because I can't walk like you?"

Taft quickly shook his head, not wanting to anger the squirrel.

"Good." Token nodded. "Because that's what everybeast else does and it gets lonely with nobeast to talk to besides my brother."

Taft didn't make a reply, but his head shot up as the door opened and Skipper walked in.

At the sight of the strong otter, the mouse nearly leapt for joy and hopped off his bed. But the squirrel was there, so instead he sat quietly, gazing happily at Rogth as he walked into the room.

"Hey Skip!" The squirrel said with a grin. "Uh..you don't happen to have a kerchief on you do ya? I got honey on the sheets and Sister Cria will boil me if she sees it."

The otter chuckled as he sat of Taft's bed.

"Aye, n'she'd skin ya first little mate!" He laughed. "Luckily I do just happen to have an answer to your pleas."

He pulled an off-white kerchief from his shirt and handed it to the eager squirrel.

"Thanks Skip!" Token replied as he began scrubbing away at the honey stain.

While the red squirrel dealt with his sheets, the otter turned to Taft with a smile.

"So, how have you been, eh?" He asked gently. "Getting along with 'Token the Terror' well?

The little mouse nodded but said nothing.

"I ain't so terrible, everyone just thinks it." Token said with a flashing grin, then his brow darkened. "It's Dellon whose the monster, Skip. He just won't leave me be."

The Skipper raised an amused eyebrow.

"Now then, is that so? I 'eard it was you that dumped the soapy water on the stairs while it was dark, causing Brother Dirius to slip."

Token scowled.

"Aye that was me, but t'was an accident, Skip." He scrubbed viciously at the sheet. "It was intended for Dellon, not Brother Dirius. I was trying to get him back for tripping little Felisa. You know, 'let the punishment fit the crime'. At least I owned up to it. That's what a true warrior does. Believe me, I got far more punishment then needed for that. Dellon and his group tortured me for days after that."

Skipper grinned at the notorious squirrel and turned to Taft.

"Like I said, he's Token the Terror."

"Fine." Token said with a defeated smile. "But I'm Honorable Token the Terror." He gazed at the mouse beside the otter and nodded. "And he'll be Taft the Tame, my assistant."

"What'd you think, mate?" Rogth asked the small mouse. "We'll ye be Taft the Tame the assistant of Token the Terror?"

"-Honorable!" Token cut in.

Taft looked at Skipper then at the squirrel, a bit unsure of himself. He'd never been an assistant before, and he had no idea what it was. But Skipper seemed to like the idea, so the mouse guessed it was ok. After a few moments he nodded, much to the joy of the Rogth.

"Good!" The otter said happily, slapping his knee. "I'm sure to hear of your ventures of terror and crime when I get back from the holt."

"You're leaving?" Tafts asked in dismay.

The otter nodded seriously.

"Aye, I've gotta make sure my friends n'family are safe when the fighting breaks out." He tweaked Taft's nose playfully. "Don't worry, I'll be back. You just enjoy you're time with Honorable Token the Terror, ok?"

With a sigh, Taft let his shoulders sag.

"Ok."

"No need to worry Skip." Token said with a smile. "I'll watch him for ya!"

The otter stood up and grinned at the squirrel as he rustled Taft's headfur.

"I know he's in good paws with ye, Honorable Token the Terror!"


	11. Breaking the Ice

Taft watched the group of armed squirrels and otters as they marched out the gate. He sighed as he saw Skipper, leading the group. Tears welled in the young mouse's eyes as he thought of what Doxtriz would do to the otter if he was lucky enough not to be killed, but captured. He had seen the most horrible things done to the leaders of those who resisted the red fox, and he feared that Rogth would be taken.

The mouse jumped as he felt a paw on his shoulder and turned quickly around to see Token limping up beside him to look out the window.

"You're really jumpy, mate." He said with a grin. "Don't worry about ol'Skip, Taft. He'd lay an entire army flat if he had to!"

"B-but this is Doxtriz." The young mouse said lowly. "He's killed otters like Skipper before."

"They may have been like Skipper, but they'd never match him." Token said proudly. "How many of those otters could kill a wildcat single-pawed and lived to tell the tale? Nobeast can best Skipper unless Skipper lets them. Besides, Kirtan's with him. Nothing'll go wrong with my brother by that old otter's side!"

Taft sighed sorrowfully and looked away from the window. He sincerely hoped that his new squirrel friend was right. Because he'd simply be broken if anything should happen to the bold otter that found him. The petite mouse suppressed his tears, trying to believe what Token had said. He wasn't used to having hope. It was yet another thing he'd have to learn to have.

Token nudged the mouse playfully, trying to move the beast's mind away from the thoughts of Skipper.

"C'mon, Taft the Tame." He said, as he limped towards the infirmary door. "I'll show ya around. We'd beast leave before Sister Cria gets back and forces us into bed. I've had enough of just laying around! Time to reap some havoc!"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kirtan jumped onto the limb of a maple tree and hopped to the ground. The scout scurried quietly through the woods to the spot where Skipper Rogth lay hidden. Just before approaching, he let out a quiet whistle. It wasn't long before he received an answer from the hidden beast. It was safe to come forward. He slipped into the brush and crouched by the Skipper's side, giving his report.

"Aye, they're out there Skip." He said in a breathless voice. "Moving towards the Abbey just like the note said. Coming straight towards you. They'll be here in a few minutes. I'd say from this point, you'd have an excellent chance of an ambush."

The otter nodded as he peered through the leaves.

"I had hoped to make it back to the holt before we crossed blades with these vermin." He sighed in a whisper. "What are their numbers compared to ours?"

Kirtan scratched his head in thought.

"I think it's just a scout party, but you outnumber them well enough. They looked well-trained and ready for warfare. In truth, I'd say it's a fifty-fifty chance, Skipper. Your call."

The otter chieftain turned towards the trees behind him. Squirrels and otters were well-hidden in the wood, indeed a perfect ambush.

"What about our tree archers? Would that give us the upper paw?"

Instantly, the squirrel-scout nodded.

"I'd have to say yes. That and the tactic of surprise should raise the numbers of success on our part. They don't have many archers in their group and the bows are ill-made. That being said, I think we have a fine chance, Rogth."

"Right." The Skipper drew his broad sword and nudged his head at the troops behind him. "Alert the squirrels, tell them to shoot to kill. Although, I want at least one alive. We'll need him for questioning. I want three volleys of arrows fired and then the otters close in on them in a pincher formation. Cut off their retreat. Nobeast is to get back to their vermin leaders alive, understood?"

Kirtan nodded.

"Is that all?"

"Yes." The otter said firmly. "I want all dead except one. Like I said, we'll need him for questioning. I'd hate to have to have Taft answer our curiosities. He's trying to heal and bringing the past up with only make him fall apart again."

"Ok, Skip." The red squirrel said, scaling the tree. "Now we just need to win."

Skipper set his teeth in determination and glared into the wood.

"Aye, all we need to do is win." He sighed. "Martin keep us safe."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And this is Cavern Hole." Token waved his paw at the large room with pleasure. "C'mon, I'll show you the tapestry."

Taft awkwardly followed the bold squirrel. For the past few hours Token had been showing the young mouse around and Taft noticed how the passing Abbeybeasts stopped to stare at him. He didn't like it. Their eyes seemed to follow him all across the Abbey, and Taft just wanted to be left alone with Token. Undetected and silent.

Apparently this great redstone Abbey was extremely old and full of history. Token seemed to know every story, from the Martin the Warrior until the present. How the squirrel could keep track of so many tales and adventures, Taft didn't know. He left the poor mouse in confusion when he spoke of some story, only to merge into another one like Taft knew exactly what he was talking about. The mouse never questioned his squirrel friend, though. To him, this was just an Abbey-a very old Abbey. As long as Slickcast couldn't get him there, he was fine.

"Remember how I told you all about Martin the Warrior, Taft?" Token asked with a tint of glee. "This is the pride of the Abbey!"

Th golden-red squirrel reached up and touched the threads of the great tapestry with awe.

"The picture of Martin dates back to the Warrior's very own lifetime! The rest was added a bit later. What do ya think? Isn't it marvelous?"

It didn't take Token long to realize that Taft wasn't looking at the tapestry alongside him. He turned to the mouse in concern. Taft had his head down and his eyes fixed on the stone floor.

"What's wrong, mate?" The squirrel put a paw on the mouse's shoulder. The smaller beast was quivering.

"I don't like it." Taft mumbled.

Token raised an eyebrow.

"Don't like what?"

The small mouse gulped and pointed at the tapestry, lifting his head slightly.

"The picture of the mouse in armor. Mice don't wear armor! We're too small and...only vermin wear armor!"

Token smiled and put a friendly arm about Taft's shoulders.

"Martin's no vermin!" He said with pride. "He's a warrior! Warriors wear armor. You don't need to be scared of him, mate. He's saved the Abbey many times through the Abbey Champions!"

Taft looked cautiously up at the tapestry of the strange mouse. It didn't seem logically correct to him. Mice are one of the smallest and weakest beasts there are, yet that mouse...He seemed so strong and bold!

"You know Taft, he was like you." Token said slowly, causing Taft to look up at him. A questioned played in his eyes.

The outright squirrel chuckled.

"Martin was a slave, just like you. He spent a long time under Badrang's whip. Yep, they were cruel to him, but he never broke. He escaped and killed Badrang in the end." Token paused for a bit, looking from Martin to Taft. "You know, I think Martin likes you Taft. Maybe he'll help you kill Slickcast like he conquered the stoat."

The little mouse shook his head.

"But I don't know how to fight." Taft said sadly. "And I don't ever want to see that fox again!"

Token grinned at his friend and propelled him away from the tapestry.

"Well, then I'll get rid of the vermin for you! I'm set on being a warrior! Nobeast can change my mind!"

Taft was about to say something when a voice stopped him.

"Hello cripple. Having fun?"

Token looked up to the doorway to see a hedgehog, taller then most. A malicious grin was spread over his lips and trouble danced in his eyes. He was about the same age as Token, though nothing like the squirrel. He came stomping up to the pair of friends, flanked by a black squirrelmaid and a otter. It was painfully obvious that they up to no good.

"Oh, who's this?" The hedgehog leaned in close to Taft's face. "That pathetic slave Skipper dragged in from the snow?"

Token looked down to see Taft's fearful face as the hedgehog laughed. Sneering, the squirrel pulled the small mouse from the bully and stepped in front of him in a defensive manner.

"Leave him be Dellon! He's done nothing to you, so just let him alone!"

Dellon grinned mercilessly at the squirrel and stepped in close.

"I can do what I like, cripple. You don't scare me."

The squirrel glared at the bully fearlessly.

"Likewise here, spikebrain." Token growled. "This Abbey would be a lot nicer without you, Dellon the Demon!"

Apparently that comment upset the hedgehog because he roared and gave the squirrel a harsh and brutal shove, sending him to the floor.

"Watch what you say, Token, because now I'm gonna make you're little friend pay for what you said."

"If you lay a single finger on him I'll rip your ears off!" Token shouted from the floor as the hedgehog made for Taft.

The small mouse backed away as Dellon came forward. Fear watch running up and down his spine at each step. He'd done this type of thing countless times with Slickcast as his tormenter. But this was different. The tormenter was only a few seasons older then his victim, and Taft didn't know what to expect. The next thing he knew, his back was flat against the wall. He looked up into the eyes of the hedgehog with his own filled with pleading.

"What's wrong little mousey? Scared of me?" Dellon taunted. as he poked the mouse in the chest. "Tell me, can you swim?"

Taft gulped and shook his head viciously.

"No?" The hedgehog smiled at the mouse and nodded to his friends. "Looks like we'll have to teach ya then, eh?"

Token hissed as he rose from the floor.

"Don't you even think about it, Dellon!" He barked angrily. "It's winter and the pond is freezing, if not frozen over. It's one thing to do that to me, but leave him alone. He's new around here!"

"Oh please."

Dellon rolled his eyes and grabbed Taft's arm. The tiny mouse squeaked in fright and began pulling away, desperate to free his arm.

"Whoa there, mousy!" The older beast snickered. "You ain't goin nowhere!"

He grabbed Taft's other arm and squeezed it, so the mouse couldn't struggle. He grinned in a terrifying way at the tiny mouse, causing his breath stick in his throat. Defenseless and full of terror, Taft into a rage of panic. He lashed out and kicked the hedgehog in the stomach with all his strength. Dellon growled in pain and lack of breath but refused to let go. He coughed a bit and sent a glare at his victim, who cringed. He stood up straight and began to shake the mouse until Taft's vision blurred and his head spun.

"You little rat!" He spat as he forced Taft hard against the wall. "You wanna fight? Let's fight!"

"Taft, look out!" Token's voice sounded, just before a fist slammed into Taft's face. The young mouse went a little limp in the older beast's grip, completely dazed and angry.

"Dellon! Leave him be, he can't fight like that!" Token made to stop the fight but Chip, Dellon's otter friend held him back.

"Then he'll learn!"

Dellon laughed mockingly, and then screamed as Taft sunk his teeth into his arm until he hit bone. Token watched in horror as the hedgehog dropped the mouse to the ground and then the small beast went wild. Taft kicked at the hedgehog's legs, making the bully topple over. Then he launched himself at the beast. He was sick of being the subject of torment and hate. Always taking the blows without so much as lifting a finger in his own defense. He had attacked Slickcast once before in desperation to make the pain he suffered end. Unfortunately, he was far too small and weak to make any difference. He'd received a harsh punishment for defying the fox.

So then why did he attack the hedgehog? Well, he had nothing to loose and everything to gain. Basically, he snapped. He was tired of being the 'play thing' of other beasts stronger then him. The hedgehog wasn't much older then him and couldn't hurt him as bad as Slickcast had done in the past. Fear, terror and anger had let to panic and a mode of survival. He had a better chance beating the hedgehog then he had with of Slickcast, and better chance to make his torment end.

The young mouse kicked, bit and punched with all his strength. He feared that if he stopped, he'd have no chance against a furious beast. Dellon was crying now, begging the mouse to leave him be. But Taft was far too deep in rage and terror to do so. He delivered blows backed by all the pain and the mockery he had suffered. Tears ran down his cheeks as he felt a paw on his shoulder, pulling him away. He shrugged it off and growled a curse he had heard the vermin use many times.

"Taft stop, you'll kill him!" Token's voice broke the ice.

The small mouse stopped and looked down in utter horror at his victim. The hedgehog was bloody and bruised, tears running from his eyes as he begged for Taft to leave him be. The mouse was too shocked to lift his eyes from what he had done. Blood spattered his tunic and covered his fists. He had no idea that he could do that to a creature...it was always done to him. Was he capable of such anger?

Once again the petite mouse felt a paw on his shoulder, pulling him off Dellon. He made no resistance as he was lifted away from his victim. Tears of confusion blinded his eyes and ran freely down his cheeks. He looked around him in a daze. There was a vole in a green habit next to Dellon now and a squirrel in brown came up to him, trying to talk to him. He looked up to see Token supporting him and whispering reassurance. What had he done?


	12. One of Black and One of Blood

Copper grinned as he watched his brother pace back and forth in the camp, filled with anxiousness. He'd told Sickcast not to send such a large scout party, such a group could easily be spotted. However, he didn't even try to stop his stubborn sibling from doing what he wanted. The proof of the younger fox's words was in the fact that the scouts hadn't returned yet. They had, no doubt, run into trouble.

The fox looked up at the gathering clouds, grouping up for a vicious snowstorm. He turned back into his tent, closing the flap as he entered.

"You think the little beast made it Sharpfur?" He asked, drawing his red cloak about him for a bit of warmth in the winter air.

Sharpfur, a young, but highly skilled assassin ferret shrugged carelessly from his seat at Copper's table. He poured himself another cup of damson wine and swirled it about, watching the waves with his ebony eyes. His pure white fur was hidden beneath his dim black vest, pants and long-sleeved shirt. Draped over his shoulders was a midnight-black cape, his sole tool of being invisible in the night and shadows. The ferret seldom smiled, and when he did it was usually a sadistic grin or mocking smirk. Like most assassins, he kept to himself for the most part, avoiding casual talk and regular comments, except about Copper. It was by sheer fate that the fox had gained the beast's trust and had given the ferret his own, and now they worked together.

The two beasts had been supporting each other with each of their own skills for about four seasons now. Copper had found the ferret with an arrow in his chest during one nasty raid on a large town. Apparently, Sharpfur had been sent there by a curtain employer to take out loud-mouthed weasel in the town. He had been just about to succeed in his task, when the raiders came. His target was killed by the same archer that embedded an arrow in the young ferret's own chest.

The vermin would have died, had Copper not found him and seen his potential use. He had the ferret secretly healed in his tent and Sharpfur claimed that he owed the fox his life. Willing to fight to the death for Copper out of a wacked-up sense of gratitude, the ferret obeyed the fox's every command. Strangely enough, the two had also become friends. Copper supported and covered Sharpfur's actions and the ferret ran errands, gave advice and even killed for the fox.

Together they had achieved much, and they were only planning to gain more.

"D'mouse could 'ave...I don't doubt it after yer brother's unit has failed t'return. 'e probably told 'em about a 'orde out in the woods."

Copper found himself grinned a little triumphantly as he joined the ferret at the table, filling his own mug with wine.

"The damn fox has no idea how to run things. It's Blackivy who saves his skin."

Sharpfur's eyes flashed slight amusement as he drained his cup.

"Aye." He said plainly. "Tis a shame 'e was first-born. 'e's got no skill in nothin', cept killing. Useless, damn useless. Though after that stunt you pulled on him, I think he'll be eying you good.""

"True." The fox replied.

They sat in silence for a while, before Sharpfur called for of Copper's few slaves off in the corner of the tent to fetch him another bottle of wine, as the present one was rapidly vanishing.

As the squirrel scrambled off to do as he was told, Copper gave the ferret a disapproving look.

"You drink far too much."

The assassin shrugged, gulped down another cup, and filled it again.

"Keeps me mind clear when I got a job t'do." The ferret said as he frowned at the last few drops of purple-red liquid, falling into his cup.

Copper rolled his eyes and leaned forward in his seat, looking into his cup sincerely.

"Speaking of jobs, I want you to go to the abbey and find out if he made it for sure."

The ferret nearly choked on his drink. Spluttering and coughing, he glared at the fox with challenging eyes.

"Wot's it matter? We know 'e made it! I need a break, Cop! Yew got what ye wanted by him delivering that false message, wot more dew ye want?"

"I want you to make sure the abbey is under guard now." Copper stared hard at the ferret. "I want you to make sure they took it the way I wanted them to. I want to get into that abbey later on too, so find me an opening. I want you to make sure everything is going according to plan. Sharp, you know what I want and why. Plagues, just do it!"

The ferret was quiet a moment before crossing his arms and leaning back.

"I know wot yew want, mate." He eyed the fox as he spoke. "N'I know why. Wot I don't git, is wot yew hope t'accomplish by this. I mean, we're coming out with nothin'! It ain't the way we work!"

Copper shrugged and gazed into his drink, as if it held all the answers...well...for some he guessed, it did. But he was not one of those.

"I've got my reasons." He smirked at the ferret across from him and gulped down his wine, before standing up. "This is the only way to stop it. We both know that. And we do benefit from it."

The ferret frowned.

"Aye, but isn't there a better way t'dewin' it? I mean...we're stickin' our necks out preety far with this one, mate."

Copper smiled.

"With an assassin like yourself, and a sly fox like me, what could go wrong?"

The ferret growled slightly.

"Yew want me t'go into an abbey...an abbey, Cop! You know how I hate those type of pacifists!"

The fox grinned at his friend's outburst and shrugged.

"Don't worry about it. As long as you do your thing and don't get caught, they won't change you into a saint in a night. You're completely safe, so quit whining!"

"Alright fine!" The ferret growled, defeated. "Want me to contact them too?"

Copper shook his head, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"Not yet. We're still about a day and a half's march from the Abbey. We'll make our move a day before Father's in sight...It'll take some time to convince them and get out while remaining not missed here."

Sharpfur mumbled something and was about to reply when a sudden shout came from outside the tent. The two vermin looked at each other and raced towards the exit to see what the commotion was about.

Outside Slickcast was in a rage of fury. Nobeast dared to near him, for he threw every beast and thing in his way. He roared out curses and vile profanities of all sorts, using words that probably weren't words at all. The surrounding vermin cringed in horror and fear as the red fox gripped the messenger by his tunic and lifted him to face-level with ease.

"What do you mean they're dead?" He shouted at the weasel angrily. "I sent you to tell me why they're taking so long and you bloody well tell me they're all dead? Mind telling me how they died? WAS IT FOOD POISENING, EH?"

The weasel gulped and struggled feebly with the fox's strong grasp.

"They was all pincushions sire...arrows sprinkled over their corpses like snow on the ground n'all chopped up too! Please don't 'urt me sire!"

Slickcast growled and shook the weasel so hard that the messenger thought his head would go spinning.

"I should tear you limb from limb you worthless, idiotic, stupid, brainless mouse! I'll tear your eyes out and shove them down your throat! I'll make you chew your own tail off! I'll pull your brains out through your ears! I'll..."

"Tut, tut Slick. You just said he was brainless and now you threaten to pull his brains out through his ears? A play on words, I should say."

Copper grinned winningly at the raging fox, happy at the chance to annoy his elder.

"As to how the scouts died, I'll give you my expert opinion." The sly fox crossed his arms as he stared unwaveringly at his brother. "The woodlanders killed them. You seem to forget that they aren't exactly willing to become slaves, just yet."

Slickcast hissed as he tossed the weasel to one side, who quickly scrambled off, and approached his sibling in full-fledged anger.

"I didn't forget anything, fool." The red fox spat in malice. "Don't you dare talk to me in such a low tone! You'll speak with respect to me from now on."

The vermin gasped as they watched Slickcast suddenly backpaw his brother with such force, that Copper strained to regain his balance. The younger fox spat blood and glared up a his older brother. He straightened himself, brushed himself off and spoke in a calm, collected voice that pricked Slickcast's nerves to the soul.

"I should kill you for that."

Slickcast spit at Copper's paws, pointing his claw at his sibling.

"I doubt you have the guts to do such a thing, brother. You're a blundering wimp at heart!"

Copper thought for a moment and then smirked, gesturing to his elder's paw.

"Firstly, don't point that thing at me, it's got a nail in it." The fox paused, relishing Slick's boiling rage. It was so enthralling making his brother angry. "And secondly, I could kill you in less then two minutes flat...I just don't find that Father would think it a very brilliant idea. See, I like my head where it is n'all..."

Slickcast snarled viciously.

"I'll gut you, rouge!" He roared. "I'll gut you like father did to your wench of a mother!"

"What?" Copper sneered, his eyes instantly filled with pure, vile rage.

The camp suddenly became dead silent. Everybeast had their eyes on the siblings. They stood, glaring into each other's eyes with hate. The entire horde knew that Copper's mother was a touchy subject, as it sent the fox into the most deadly of moods. Several times in the past, the fox had actually killed beasts because he didn't like what they had said about his parent...and such deeds were not the way the fox normally acted.

So the siblings stood, facing each other with grim, murderous looks for what seemed like hours.

When Copper finally spoke, his voice was dangerous, dark and filled with deathly hate.

"You can insult me, my life, my reputation, anything of mine...but, say one word about my mother like that and nothing, not even Father's power will stop me from sawing your head off with a blunt knife." He lifted his head back, so he was at full height. "Unlike you Slick, I have a bit of veneration for the beast who gave me life. You want me to kill you? Just step over that line again and see if you're still alive one second later."

Slickcast just continued to stare...until he suddenly broke into loud laughter.

"Veneration? Haha! I never though you'd step into a woodlander's shoes, Cop!" The fox stood up straight, snickering outwardly. "Tell me, brother, how do you like being weak, stupid and mindless like those damned softies we use as slaves! Ya like taking care of the babes and grandmothers is that it? If you're so bloody eager to be worth nothing but a 'gentle beast' with a tone of 'moral honor', doomed to serve, you'd do nicely as my own personal slave!"

The elder fox continued to snort, and soon some of the vermin about them joined in the fun, but only a few. Copper, however, was not amused. Though he showed no signs of outward rage, the fox was boiling over with raving animosity. His mild features covered his true feelings with ease, yet it didn't stop him from speaking dangerously to his sibling.

"You're a fool, Slick." He stated with more then just a drop of malice in his voice. "Those woodlanders aren't as dumb as you make them out to be. If you're not careful, they'll be your downfall, if I'm not."

The elder stopped laughing and smirked at his brother.

"And what makes you so sure about that?"

Copper shrugged.

"Nobeast, warlord or common thief, has ever taken Redwall for more then a day." The fox glared at his brother. "If it were not for Father, you would have no chance at getting into the Abbey. Because those 'gentle' woodlanders, seem to have the ability to transform into ravaging warriors within a moments notice."

"Bland news, brother." Slickcast growled, showing his flashing fangs. "Those woodlanders wouldn't stand a second against me. It's lucky for them that we don't plan on storming their walls. Besides, that 'moment's notice' will never come. We're simply taking the blasted beasts and leaving. We'll be gone before they even notice we were there!"

Copper nodded, as if in thought, and then looked up at the older fox. His eyes criticized the elder.

"Ah, so that's why your patrol is dead!" He stated sarcastically with a smile, before shaking his head. "Wait, no, that's right...it was food poisoning, wasn't it?"

Slickcast made to snap an insult at his sibling, but nothing came to mind. He cursed at himself and then glared daggers at the younger fox.

"You just wait till I find that precious little slave of yours." He said sadistically, leaning in close to his brother's face and speaking softly. "I'll torture him to death right outside your tent, so you won't be able to sleep and-"

"Is this some lame attempt to anger me, brother?" Copper sighed, looking at his sharp black claws. "Because the attempt is failing. What do I care for the damn mouse? You catch him, he'll only be getting what he deserves for escaping. Now if you don't mind, I think I'll go see Father about what to do with those surviving woodlanders your group failed to capture or kill. If they get to the Abbey, our plans are blown. Mind you, it'd be your fault, not mine, if they make it and secure the building."

"And what would a few woodlanders do to us?" A sudden female voice stated. "We are far more powerful then they and even if they know of our existence, it hardly changes things. As, we are not here for all-out war."

Copper spun about to see a beautiful black vixen, slowly and smoothly approaching the arguing foxes. She wore a long, emerald dress that brought out the color in her dark green eyes. Her tail flared out behind her, its tip rimmed with white. Smiling slimly, she passed by Copper allowing her perfume to be inhaled and then preceded to approach Slickcast. Though the fox was still unhappy, he smiled at the sight of his mate and took her paw into his own, gently kissing it.

"Wise as always, vixen." Slick said with a grin.

The vixen flashed a look of pleasure and wrapped her arm about her mate's, clinging to him adoringly. She turned her gaze over to Copper, he rolled his eyes at the sight of the 'demon', as he called her. However, despite his feelings towards the vixen, he bowed his head respectfully.

"Blackivy." He greeted blandly. "Should you not be resting?"

Slickcast scowled at his brother and answered for the lovely beast by his side.

"Should you not be concer-"

He was stopped instantly as a slim, emerald-painted claw was pressed against his lips. Blackivy smiled softly at him, her white teeth flashing.

"Sush, my love." She said turning to Copper. "Your half-brother meant no harm."

Copper nodded, giving the vixen a distasteful look. She was the only one who truly emphasized the fact that Slickcast was his half-brother and thus, was below her mate and his father. She knew he wouldn't harm or insult her gravely, as she was female and his morals prevented him from doing such. She was a black alright, right down to the core of her very soul...if she had one. She was known for casting the most harsh and cruel punishments on slaves who displeased her. He also knew that she influenced Slick greatly. In truth, anything grand he did, was usually advised by her cunning mind.

Copper often wondered why he gave her any kind of respect. Of course, after a while he knew he had to. She was female first of all, she was with cub and she was a fox, including the fact that she was indeed a sly beast. However, she was just as wicked as an old hag or seer, if not worse. It was that that made Copper's respect watered for her.

The orange fox looked at his brother, who held an odd pride about him when his mate was around.

"I know that she is with cub, Slick." The younger fox said with a touch of venom. "I would expect her to be resting, as the birth is to be soon, I have heard."

"Expect nothing from that which is not yours!" Slickcast snarled, only to be shushed again by a smooth black paw.

"Come Slick, let's go back to the tent." Blackivy suggested softly, so as it did not seem to be an order. But it was obvious to all onlookers, the vixen was controlling Slickcast. "You are most unpleasant when you're riled up."

The red fox glared at his brother before turning back to his partner. Allowing the vixen to hold his arm, he trudged off past Copper, towards his tent. Blackivy gave the fox one disguised sneer as she trotted off, her blood-red mate by her side.

Copper stood watching the pair go off, disgusted, before heading off in his own direction.


	13. Meeting Subtle Clan

Skipper Rogth stood outside the Holt main house with javelin in paw. He peered into the darkness about the inhabitance, seeking out any unusual movement. Despite his readiness and alertness, nothing in the wood made a move to jump and attack him. It just seemed like another normal winter night, the snow sifting through the air to pile upon the ground. He would have thought about the peace and beauty of the dark, snowy forest around him, had his thoughts not been elsewhere.

Vermin.

After the battle with them in the earlier hours of the day, he'd shot his way to the Holt. The ambush on the vermin had been highly successful. Every one of the damn invaders had been put to death. But despite the victory, he couldn't help but think about how trained and skilled the beasts were. It wasn't unusual for him to have to fight small bands of thieves and slavers, so he was no stranger to blood and battle. But He didn't know what it was like to face an entire horde of trained vermin. Sure, they'd done it in the past and had been victorious, but he just didn't expect to have a problem with vermin in his time.

Sighing, the well-built otter slouched against the main house wall, digging his paws into the snow. The cold substance caused him to shiver, pulling his dark-brown cloak tight about his form.

"I told ye ye'd need a cloak and shirt in this weather."

Skipper smiled without turning to see the speaker standing in the doorway.

"I suppose ye were right then Freespring. One point for ya."

The light-furred ottermaid laughed at this and Skipper thought he was hearing cheery bells in the sound of her voice. He turned to face the shining blue-eyed maiden with a roughish grin. She was lovely as always. Wearing her thick navy-blue winter tunic that fell freely to her knees and the dark purple cloak, she seemed to brighten anybeast's world.

"I think I'd call it three points, Rogth." She said with a shining smile.

"How so?" Skipper asked.

Freespring chuckled.

"One for the shirt I forced ye to wear, one for the cloak...I again forced ye to wear and one for my handkerchief." She paused, cocking her head to one side. "Ye did use it, did you not?"

The otter chieftain smirked, reaching into his shirt for the kerchief.

"Well...I guess you could say that." He handed the cloth to the ottermaid, who began to examine it.

"Honey?" She peered up at him with playful scorn. "Honestly Rogth, I thought ya'd use yore napkin for a napkin and yore kerchief for a kerchief and not switch it about! Yore not a cub ya know!"

"I needed it for a honey-covered scone!" The otter replied defensively.

Freespring raised her brow at that.

"Sneaking food out of Redwall's kitchen has been known to get a beast a lump on the head with a ladle! Yore lucky to have survived."

Rogth gave her a look of mixed surprise and indignation before stumbling over his next words.

"Me? Steal food? Whatever made ye...ah...oh." He scratched his head when he realized how she came to that conclusion. "See, It wasn't my scone it was Token's...ye know Token right? Redish gold furred squirrel with a limp?"

"Yes." The ottermaid said, crossing her arms. "I know Token. Continue Rogth, I'm listening."

"Ya see..." The cheiftan went on. "I was off visitin' a little mouse-friend of mine in the sick bay and Token had had another one of his attacks and was there too. Seems the little scamp had been feasting on a honey scone and had gotten some on the bed sheets. Fearing Sister Cria's maddening wrath, he asked if I had anything to wipe it off. I thought about yore kerchief, tucked safe in this shirt ye forced me to wear in winter and knowin' I'd never really use it I gave it to him..."

The otter looked up into Freespring's skeptical face and rolled his eyes.

"Look Spring...I never was a 'kerchief usin' type of beast...us males...we just kinda snuff it all back up and..."

"That's enough Rogth, I don't want to know." The ottermaid said with an exasperated sigh. "I'll never make a civilized gentlebeast of ya."

Skipper gave a sheepish grin and wrapped his arm about the maid's shoulders.

"Don't ye like me this way?" He poked, earning a sideway look from the maid followed by a chuckle.

"Yore a stumpy old seadog, Rogth." She said, pushing away from him with a smile.

"Riverdog, Spring, I'm a riverdog."

Freespring stepped up to him and poked him in the snout, raising her chin.

"Ye'll be a civilized beast by the time we're married, or yore gonna live one hell of a life, mister riverdog." She smirked in victory. "Feast on that, ye ol'log!" She stepped back, crossing his arms in pride.

Skipper rubbed his chin and drew his lips back thoughtfully.

"That's quite a threat there." He noted her look of triumph then added. "Course...we could cancel the wedding and call it all off..."

Freespring gaped at him, making the otter snicker.

"Ye look mighty pretty when yore shocked, Sky."

Skipper smiled as the ottermaid scowled and looked as though she was about to snap back when he suddenly found her clinging to his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek. When she drew away, he gazed at her in shock and gave a weak grin. Her eyes twinkled as she smiled back delightfully.

"Yore a rouge, Rogth." She hugged him close and closed her eyes. "When we're wed I hope to have a son just like ya."

Skipper returned her embrace and propped his chin up on her head.

"I was hoping for a daughter like ye." He laughed lightly as a thought came to mind. "Gee, she'd look ugly if she took after her pa."

Freespring drew away from him and cocked her head.

"Twins then." She stepped back and looked towards the main house. "I'd better get back in there. Mama will be wonderin' where I got off to."

"Like she didn't know." Rogth snorted, getting a playful glare from the maiden.

"I'll see you later Skip...when yore not saving the world, eh?"

Skipper let his shoulder sag slightly.

"Aye, when I'm not savin' the world."

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Taft frowned in the darkness of the guest bedroom he'd been placed in. He couldn't take his mind off the frightening deed he'd done. His memory kept wondering back to the fight between him and the hedgehog, making him shiver. He'd never harmed another beast in all his life, as he was hardly strong enough to do so in the first place. It was usually him getting the blood and bruises, not giving them, which scared him. The mouse gazed at the deed as a horrible omen, making him wonder if he was becoming as cruel and heartless as Slickcast. Such a thought would have made him cry, had he not already run out of tears.

From the moment he'd been pried off Dellon, he was carried off to this room. Sister Cria cleaned his paws of blood and took his splattered tunic to be washed, giving him a plain white one to change into. He had wept all the while and climbed into the bed provided for him. Token had tried to calm him down, telling him it was just a brawl and he'd had many before. But he soon shooed away, flaring, by his elders.

For the most part, Taft had been left alone after the incident, except for when he was brought his meal and when Sister Cria checked up on him. He didn't really like being alone. It made him feel guilty. After all, the beasts here had been kind to him for the most part, he should be behaving. Suddenly a horrifying thought struck his mind. What if they beat those who didn't act appropriately? What if they were just waiting to give him a public punishment?

He'd seen one before at the vermin camp. One of Doxtriz's slave had kept trying to get away and the fox had become fed up with it. Rallying all the slaves before his tent, the blood-hound had the slave tortured and then beheaded as a warning to those who act up. Taft had always been a timid, well behaved slave for the most part. As being raised under the lash from birth had made him immuned and accepting to his life. But after seeing that, all hopes of ever being free were quenched thoroughly. Sure he dreamed about it, just as any slave would, but he knew that dreams rarely became fact. He was a slave, a tool, a good to be sold or bought at the will of his masters. Freedom just wasn't reality for him...at least that's how it was until Copper had set him free.

He still didn't understand it. How one fox could be so cruel to his slave and yet his sibling had let the captive go free. Thinking about it made his head hurt and it frightened him immensely. He didn't know how to live in freedom. The fight with Dellon had proved that. Would the abbeybeasts send him back to Slick for being the inflictor, rather then the victim? The thought proved to be far too terrifying for the mouse and he found tears flowing down his face once again. He hid his face in his pillow and sobbed.

Suddenly a knock came from the door and the passage creaked open to reveal Abbot Illian's face.

"Hello Taft. May I come in?" He said in a kind voice, but the mouse didn't look up and continued to cry into the bedding.

The Abbot dropped his shoulders and came to the bedside, pity in his eyes. He gently laid a paw on Taft's head, making the mouse tense and shiver.

"Don't worry young one, I'm not here to scold you."

Taft didn't move, though his sobbing calmed and his ears folded toward the Abbot's voice. The elder mouse sighed and sat on the bed, folding his paws over his lap. He cocked his head at the tiny mouse, studying the mouse's quick, frightened breaths.

"Taft I want you to know that I don't blame you for what you did." The old mouse stated softly. "You were understandably scared. After what you have probably gone through in your life, I would expect no less a reaction from you when threatened. Perhaps it was more violent then we would have liked, but we elders have agreed that it was Dellon's provoking that led you to lash out. There were witnesses and they're tales are all the alike. You are innocent and Dellon is to blame."

Taft frowned in confusion in his pillow, not understanding. He was the beast that lashed out and caused violence...why is Dellon to blame? Things never worked that way back at the camp...

"What are you going to do?" The mouse suddenly asked, looking away from the bedding and sideways at the abbot.

"Pardon?"

"I beat him...what's..." Taft gulped and found his throat dry. "What are you going to d-do to me?"

Abbot Illain stared at the mouse before the question seemed to sink in and the understanding of petite beast's question make sense.

"Taft..." He said with a frown. "I'm not going to punish you for what you did, it...it wouldn't be right. I know you can't grasp the way we work here, but what Dellon did to you was wrong. If anybeast should be punished, it's him, not you. You're new and don't conceive the way we work yet. Dellon on the other paw, does. I know that where you came from...you were always to blame, probably when you even had nothing to do with it, but here it's not like that. We try to be just. And justice would proclaim you free of guilt for the most part."

Taft sat silently listening to the old beast speak. He tried to comprehend what he was being told, but the facts didn't fit with what he knew and was used to.

"So..." He asked meekly, staring at the elder mouse curiously. "I'm not going to...be punished or be...beaten?"

Illian smiled and shook his head.

"No Taft, you're not to be punished or beaten." He paused then looked into the youngster's quiet, green eyes. "Though I would ask you to apologies. If it's not too much."

Taft nodded slightly then stared at his blanket, not sure of what to say. Luckily, Abbot Illian already had something in mind.

"Tell me, are you hungry, Taft?"

The mouse hesitated at the random question and then nodded again.

The elder grinned and slapped his knee as he stood up. Peeling back Taft's covers, he helped the confused mouse out of his bed and onto the floor.

"That's a good thing, young one." The Abbot continued with a smile and cheery voice. "Because dinner is being served as we speak and I'm starved! Hopefully Sister Cria won't have any objections to having you up and about if she let you go off with Token. You're wounds are probably doing much better and you need to walk about now anyway."

Taft considered mentioning that Sister Cria hadn't let them out of the infirmary, Token and he had slipped out while she was out, but decided against it. It was rather clear that Token was a troublemaker, even if he hadn't done anything of Taft's knowledge. The mouse was sure the squirrel had and didn't want to get the beast in any kind of trouble.

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Dinner was more like a feast. Never before in his entire life, had Taft seen so much food in one place. Sure he'd served at Slickcast's table when he met with captains or such, but there had never been so much food! There were dishes and plates of vittles he'd never even known excised! All fresh and hot. Of course, living on scraps being thrown just within reach of his cage, he hadn't really given a thought as to what it was he was eating or what condition it was it. It only mattered that it killed some of his hunger and kept him alive.

Being shocked by large amounts of food and beasts before him, Taft froze in his place, causing the abbot to look down at him.

"What's the matter?" He asked in a concerned voice.

Taft met his gaze, bewildered.

"There so much to eat!" He exclaimed and turned back to look at the tables. "And...so many beasts..."

The abbot chuckled and nodded.

"Yes, there's quite a demand for food in a abbey filled with so many. You are welcome to eat as much as you wish, Taft."

The mouse snapped his head up in disbelief. The abbot noted the tiny sparks of excitement in the young one's eyes and smiled inwardly. It had been the first sign of joy or happiness the little beast had yet shown. The fact that Taft was slowly coming out of his shell of terror and fear was a good sign. The progression was slow, yes, but that was to be expected.

Gently taking the young mouse's shoulder, the abbot guided Taft to a seat. Not surprisingly, it was beside Token. The young lame squirrel was joking and chatting with a few beasts about his own age, when he felt a light tap on the back of his head. Turning about to see the abbot and Taft, he smiled brightly.

"Token, you troublesome tide, would you mind if Taft sat by you?" The old mouse said with a grin as he looked down at the silent mouse beside him. "I think he'd prefer sitting by a beast who he knows, rather then old and boring strangers like myself, eh?"

The squirrel laughed.

"I don't mind Father." He said, elbowing a vole by his side to make room. "Besides, even if Taft was to sit with you and the elders, I doubt he'd complain. Very polite, he is."

The abbot nodded and, after Taft was seated, he wondered back to his own place, leaving the two friends.

The moment the old mouse left, Token threw an arm about Taft's shoulders and began to fill the mouse's plate with strange and assorted foods. The little mouse was sure that the squirrel's mind was obviously elsewhere, as he was making a mess as he served.

"This, my friends, is Taft the Tame, my assistant." He said to the group of young beasts about him who he had been chatting with. "Taft, this is my Subtle Clan." The squirrel plopped some sort of stew on top of Taft's mound of food and began pointing to the group around him with the ladle.

"Right across from me is Tissle, our thief." He stated pointing to a young, mousemaid with dark fur and a soft smile. Token then moved the dripping utensil to the vole beside him. "That's Kully the Killer, though we call him 'the Kind' about adults for safety. Always talking about how violence is wicked and such. That's Wensil the Wise old otter, and this..." he said with a sheepish grin as his eyes fell on a young, brown squirrelmaid beside Tissle. "This is Aconia the Awed."

Taft watched as Tissle, the otter Wensil and Kully rolled their eyes as Token leaned on his fisted paw and stared at the shy squirrelmaid dreamily. She giggled and gazed back with her light brown eyes. Several paws slapped against their foreheads as the dazed squirrel beside Taft let his head slipped off his fist and fall into his plate.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Taft the Tame." The mousemaid said in a gentle voice, taking the chance to look away from the sloppy mess of Token. "It's not often we get newcomers in our clan."

"Aye." Wensil the otter agreed, sending Token a look of disgust as the squirrel abandoned his already spoiled napkin for his shirt to clean his face. "It's been rather boring with the same old occurrences." His eyes flickered to the meek mouse. "You changed that by dealing with Dellon the Dirty, though."

Taft fidgeted at the mention of the hedgehog and dropped his head, staring intently at his paws.

"The hog had it coming, Wensil." Aconia stated with a grin. "Even his father said it! I heard him as I eavesdropped on his scolding." She plucked a piece of oatmeal bread from her plate and nibbled it as she continued. "Said they would leave Redwall early if he didn't behave. And Dellon was sobbing and moaning like a babe taking a bath!"

The group laughed, while Wensil raised a brow.

"Why do you all think bathing is so horrible? it's not you know...it's rather refreshing!"

Token rolled his eyes.

"Only you would think that!" He sneered. "Try having Mother Fendila give you a bath, I call it torture. Slow drowning."

Taft shivered slightly at the thought and couldn't understand what was so funny as the other beasts laughed. He made a small mental note to avoid this 'Mother Fendila' at all costs.

"You don't say too much do you?" Kully the vole stated out of random, his eyes scanning the mouse's uneasy face. It was clear he'd been watching the beast from the moment he'd came. Probably out of curiosity.

Taft opened his mouth slightly to reply and stopped when Token began answering for him.

"Thus where I got the term 'Taft the Tame', blockhead!" The outright squirrel said, tossing a pea at the vole.

"Well it wasn't very 'tame' what he did to Dellon, now was it?" Kully barked, tossing a piece of carrot back. "His name should be Taft the 'Terrible' or 'Terrifying'."

Token snorted.

"Too bad! I'm the name-giver, and he's more 'tame' then not!" His eyes flickered at the mouse beside him, reading his face. "Besides, I don't think he'd like that!"

"Oh yea? Well-"

"Shut up both of you before you make Taft think we're a group of babbling idiots and the Mother badger come!" Tissle snapped at the arguing beasts.

Kully quieted, but the squirrel would have none of it.

"I give the orders Tiss!" Token scoffed at the maiden. "It's my clan!"

The mousemaid smirked, crossing his arms.

"It won't be if the elders separate us because of your useless bickering!"

Taft watched curiously as Token and Tissle shared a long glare before returning to common chat. That was odd. He felt out of place as the group began to talk about upcoming feasts and plots, as well as plans they had done in the past and jokes they took turns telling. It was all foreign to him. As a slave, he was usually locked up in a cage, shunned and left alone with nobeast to talk to. Sure Slickcast had had other slaves, but they were all older and stronger then he and were used far more often, so he never saw them. He had just been a foot slave and a slave to lash out at when in a bad mood. His uses and skills were small and rather useless.

Sighing, he poked at his food and stuck a forkful of...something into his mouth. Whatever it was, it tasted delicious and urged him to eat more. He was amazed at the tastes that burst in his mouth at each bite. It was so good, very unlike the scraps he'd had lived on for so long. And better then the stuff he had gotten in the infirmary, as Sister Cria hated food in that room.

After eating a lot, he suddenly noticed his thirst. He looked to his glass near his dish and raised an eyebrow. It was full of a pink liquid that he'd never seen before. Picking up the cup shyly, he peeked into his drink and sniffed it. The smell was strange, yet good to him, and he decided the taste must be fine as well. Bringing the cup to his lips, he flooded his mouth with the pinkish substance and swallowed. It was sugary and sweet...very unlike the bland water he was used to. After a few moments, he had drained his drink and had placed the cup back down, wiping his lips with the back of his paw.

"I see you like our raspberry float. Brother Aldolfus came up with it last season."

Taft looked up to see Tissle gazing at him with curiosity. He merely nodded in response and stared meekly down at his paws, avoiding eye contact from the beasts around him.

"Kully's right, you don't say much." She cocked her head in wonder. "You haven't uttered a word since you came in."

The mouse peeked up at her and shrugged.

"I-I don't have much to say. Token says everything for me."

Though he hadn't intentionally wished it to be a joke, the youngbeasts laughed and Kully even patted his back, making him wince. The fun, mocking scowl on Token's face didn't escape his gaze, and he cowered slightly, not knowing how else to react.

"That's a good one, mate!" Wensil said with a smile. "Finally somebeast puts 'the Terror' in his place!"

Tissle smiled and then pulled back her lips as she saw the puzzled expression Taft wore.

"You alright Taft?"

The mouse looked at her, still confused.

"What'd I say?"

Kully frowned.

"Didn't you...you didn't...you said...uh..."

The group fell silent and looked at the mouse, not understanding him not understanding them laughing. Of course, it was Token who took the floor, speaking for the mouse.

"Ah, right..." He wrapped a friendly arm about Taft and smirked. "See, me mate here...he'd not used to...ah...fun, I guess you could say. He's lived a rather...uh...hellish life so far. It's been hard for him understanding our ways...being a former slave and all..."

Tissle and Aconia immediately frowned at that, both sharing a pitiful look towards him.

"I'm sorry Taft..." The squirrelmaid said, frowning. Tissle nodded.

"I am too-"

"Wait!" Kully's voice howled suddenly, earning looks of displeasure from older beasts further down the table. "You've never had fun? Like sticking chalk in Sister Isa's easer at class, and dumping honey on her chair and all that? You've never done that?"

Taft reddened with slight shame at not meeting their standards.

"No..not really...I-I've never been to a class before." He let his shoulders sag lightly. "They wouldn't...I wasn't...there was no use for it." He looked up timidly and then added. "I've always wanted...to read, though."

"You can't read?" Wensil asked in shock. All beasts who knew the otter, usually described him as a bookworm. The mere thought of having such a past-time as reading not enabled seemed to be a sacrilege to him.

Taft shook his head.

"Master used to read sometimes...but he never let me near his parchments...if I tried I…" The mouse suddenly shivered and tears beaded his eyes.

Looking away, he let his head drop and tried to suppress the unwanted tears. Soon he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders again and he looked up into Token's determined face. Strangely, he instantly felt his eyes dry and the feeling of hopelessness slowly slip away. It was a though the squirrel's confidence filled in where his failed on sight. He found himself feeling glad that he had met the uppity beast and could look to him for support.

"We'll get that fixed." Token said, looking down at the mouse with a grin. "Taft's my assistant, my apprentice. He'll learn from me..." He looked up. "From all of us. We'll all teach him what to do and how to be. He's part of the Subtle Clan now. It a brotherhood...uh...erm...brother-sisterhood I mean"

"That's right." Tissle said firmly, sending a slight glare at the squirrel. "And we can start teaching him right after dinner, before Sister Cria send him back to bed."

The other beasts seemed to share the look of determination the mousemaid held and nodded in agreement. However they all stopped when Kully asked a question, full of dread.

"Um...you don't mean we all have to see Sister...uh...Isa, do you?" He scratched the back of his neck. "I kinda had something...uh...waiting for her in the classroom..."

Token scowled at the vole.

"You're supposed to plot with us, Kully! We're a team! You're coming...and you'll have to disable whatever scheme you had going so we can meet up with Sister. We don't want her chasing us about the abbey like last time you played a game on her."

"See..." The vole said uncomfortably. "That's it...I can't...too short. Took me awhile to get it up there and...um...we should just catch her before she goes into the classroom, okay?"


	14. Hellspawn

Sharpfur grumbled to himself as he crouched by the west wall of Redwall Abbey, studying the structure. It was simple enough for him to scale without a problem. Red, firm walls, plenty of gripping spots, this would be a synch. What was Copper saying by 'be careful'? Ha! This was as easy to him as it was for a cub to whine and cry.

Using the cover of the trees, he neared the abbey, thinking about how much wine Copper promised him if he'd do his job without delay. Upon reaching the wall, he glanced left, then right and sniffed the air for signs of danger. Finding none, he turned to the wall and secured his grip, beginning his mission into Redwall Abbey.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taft walked behind Token, Aconia and Tissle hesitantly. He watched as the two squirrels seem to meet eyes, gaze at each other, and then look away with one blushing and one giggling. This happened several times, followed by an eye roll from Tissle. Apparently the mousemaid was used to the two youngbeasts acting this way. Wensil brought up the back of the group with Kully. The otter talked on and on about the beauty of reading, or something like that, regardless if anyone was listening. Kully kept looking around with nervousness for Sister Isa to appear, though pretending to listen to Wensil. It was clear that whatever little trap he had planned, the teacher was sure not to like it.

The young mouse didn't really know how to feel at having a wish of his considered by the beasts who had practically 'saved' him. Skipper had been the one to help him the most, regardless if any beast were to say otherwise. Without the otter, Taft most likely would have been recaptured and killed had he not been found. The mouse found himself frowning at the thought of the chieftain. Whatever was taking him so long to return and make sure he was alright?

"Here's the classroom, Taft." Aconia stated suddenly, turning towards the mouse and nodding towards an oak door.

"Alright...whose brave enough to knock and see if she's already here?" Token asked with a smirk, glancing around at the beasts. His eyes fell on Kully, looking anyplace but the door. "Hey Kully, why don't you knock, eh? We all know Sister Isa simply adores you..."

Before the vole could speak, Wensil cut in his own opinion.

"I don't think that'd be very wise, Token. Seeing Kully will only put Sister Isa in a bad mood...not a very good mood for her to be in when asking her for a favor."

"I'll knock." Tissle volunteered, skipping up the door. "Sister Isa's not that bad, you know."

"If she's in there already she will be 'that bad'." Kully said with a frown.

Aconia glared at the vole and crossed her arms, twitching her bushy tail.

"Just what did you do in there, Kully?" She demanded, tapping her paw against the stone floor.

The vole blushed.

"I...uh...well..."

"It must be a miracle! Six youngbeasts standing in front of my classroom! If it wasn't winter I'd say it's gonna snow!"

The Subtle Clan turned to see a hedgehog coming down the hall, dressed in a classic green tunic and carrying a large pile of fresh parchments. She was a light brown color, with small black eyes and a pair of spectacles that sat idly on her snout. Her spikes were combed and sharp, each point a dark brown. She smiled at the group as she approached. Taft's first impression on the teacher wasn't a bad one, quite the opposite. He found himself liking her straight off, as she seemed to look friendly. Though he was curious to why Token and the rest (Wensil being an exception) were wary of her.

"Sister Isa." Tissle said, putting on a smile. "We were looking for you. We'd like to ask you for a favor."

The hedgehog smirked and then frowned as her eyes scanned the group and came across Kully. The vole was still blushing and was now putting his paws innocently behind his back...not to mention his failing grin. He looked anything but innocent.

"I hope this is none of your naughty tricks, Kullister." The hedgehog stated grimly. "I don't feel like having to call Father Abbot to deal with you again."

"It's not." Aconia cut in with a genuine smile. She gently took Taft's arm and pulled him in front of her, placing her paws on his shoulders. "This is Taft, Sister. He's new to the abbey and would like to take lessons from you."

Sister Isa pulled her lips and leaned closer to the squirrelmaid to get a better look at the young mouse. Taft gulped as her black eyes scanned him, calculating and analyzing. He wasn't fond of being the center of attention...

"First time in all my days as abbey teacher that a youngster wanted to learn..." She looked up and saw Wensil. "Besides you, Wensil, dear." She returned her gaze to Taft and smiled. "What exactly did you want to learn, young mouse?"

Taft looked cautiously up at the teacher and shuffled a bit.

"I..I'd like to read...ma'm." He said it in a hopeful tone, praying silently that she would accept. "If...you could...teach me..."

The hedgehog teacher smiled at the sincere face on the young beast. The meek, pleading look she'd seen in his eyes made it clear that he truly wanted this...and she wasn't a beast to turn down a willing student, as she had enough defiant ones to deal with. She straightened and brought a paw to her chin in thought.

"Would you be willing to work hard in your studies?" She asked...even though she had already decided she'd accept him.

Taft nodded vigorously. He'd been waiting a long time for this.

"He'd work really hard Sister, and we'd all help him." Aconia said seriously.

"Aye." Token instantly added, chest puffing out. "We help our own. To the death, if need be."

Isa hid a grin at the comical squirrel. If he, being a known scamp who hated schooling, was willing to help, then that had to be good...right? Besides, then Taft could grow into the Redwall life.

"I doubt it would kill you, Token." Sister Isa said with a smirk. "Alright then, if it'll keep you out of trouble. Heaven knows we've had enough of that." She shifted the parchments in her paws and looked back down at Taft's face. The mouse wasn't smiling, but his eyes gleamed, saying more then words could. "Have much do you know already, Taft?"

The young mouse frowned a bit and looked down at his paws.

"He's got a clean slate Sister, ripe and new." Wensil stated, coming to Taft's rescue. "But he'll learn fast and well, I'll make sure of it."

"I have no doubt, with you aiding him." Isa stated, everybeast knew that the otter was a favorite of hers. "Come by first thing after breakfast tomorrow, Taft. We'll start bright and early, while the mind is fresh. Run along now you trouble makers, I have things to do."

"Thank you Sister." Tissle said and the group turned to go.

Kully was already dashing down the hall at full speed, and the others rushed to catch up with him, dragging Taft along. It was clear that whatever little scheme he had planned, was about to go into action. And quite simply, he didn't want to be around when it did.

The group turned the corner and nearly tripping over Kully as he peeked around the corner. Aconia and Tissle instantly began scolding the vole, when a sudden splash and a cry of shock rang through the hall, followed by a loud growl. Kully winced and the others started to glare at him.

"What!" He said innocently. "It was just a joke!"

Aconia cleared her throat and showed her teeth to the vole. "What exactly did this joke consist of?"

Kully opened his mouth to speak but Tissle cut him off.

"Sawdust, honey and root sauce"

Token gave her a strange look.

"How do you know?"

The mousemaid shrugged and nudged a paw around the corner.

"I looked back, Sister's coming and that's what she's covered in."

"Oh." Token said as he scratched his headfur. "Now what?"

"I make a motion we hand Kully over to the raging hedgehog so as not to cause catastrophe for ourselves." Wensil said, leaning against the wall.

Token scowled at the otter, his tail flaring slightly.

"We don't give up our own to the enemy!"

Aconia grabbed the squirrel's arm, frowning.

"But she'll think we all had something to do with it!" She looked at Taft, who stood silent as ever. "She might not teach Taft if that's the case!"

A growl suddenly came from down the hall and the youngbeast's stared at each other, sharing a bit of fear. Token patted the squirrelmaid's paw gently and grinned sheepishly.

"I suppose it's for the greater good then." He turned to the pale vole and stood in a superior air. "Okay Kully, move your paws! Sister Isa waits for nobeast!"

The young vole groaned aloud as Sister Isa came around the bend, pale and looking afraid. She stopped and glanced behind her, eyes scanning the young beasts looked at each other in wonder and Aconia took the liberty of coming to the teacher's side.

"Uh...Sister...are you okay?"

The hedgehog shook her head and took hold of the two closest beast's paws, which were the squirrelmaid's and Taft's, and began rushing down the hall. Token and the rest followed, confused and curious at the sudden change of...well...everything.

"What's the matter?" Wensil asked, running to keep up with the teacher. If anybeast could get an answer from the hedgehog, it would be him.

She turned and gave him a worried glance.

"There's vermin in the abbey. We have to get to Father Abbot."

Taft suddenly felt his stomach drop as he was pulled down the corridor.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sharpfur mumbled as he sat along the ceiling beams in Great Hall. The damn hedgpig had noticed him in his hiding place in the shadows as he watched the youngsters converse. He'd been planning that after she enter the classroom, he'd sneak off. However that changed when Kully's little surprise fell down from above the door, causing the teacher to cry out and tumble back...coincidently, right into him in the dark corner of the hall. Of course, he was prickled badly from the impact of her spikes on his hide. It had taken her a few seconds to realize that the beast she'd stumbled into was vermin, but once she did, she'd growled and scratched at his face. He'd pushed her away in a flash and quickly sped down the corridor, forgetting the shadows for the time being.

He was surprised however, when the hedgehog did not chase after him, but rather turned and rushed the other way in haste. He guessed it was because she thought he'd somehow harm the youngsters. Whatever the case, he needed to get out of the abbey before it was completely locked down or at least wait until the steam had calmed down. Thus why he had scaled the wall with great difficulty and now sat in the darkest part of Great Hall's ceiling beams, moodily dwelling on how angry Copper would be.

At least he'd gotten the information the fox wanted. Taft was safe in Redwall's care, the Redwallers had taken the message seriously and had posted gaurds along the wall. Whatever. As long as he got his wine for this the ferret didn't care. Copper might have reasons behind his actions, and he might know what they were, but he only stood by the fox because he trusted him...which was unceasingly odd for an assassin like him.

Idly Sharpfur watched the abbey dwellers search about for him. It was rather amusing, him being right above them and them scurrying about looking, wasting energy. Seldom do beasts look up when they search for something. It caused the ferret to smirk at their stupidity...as he always looked up when the enemy was nigh and hiding. He'd dealt death to many a foe by the simple raising of the head. Still, if he'd been a goodbeast, he probably would have felt sorry for the stupid bunch. But since he wasn't a goodbeast, for now, he found it quite entertaining.

He scanned his eyes along the searchers until his eyes fell on an important looking mouse in a green habit. It was clear he was the abbot, which was simple to guess. The beast had grey fur and was watching the beasts about him, worry etched on his brow. For one his age, the assassin would have thought the beast would know a thing or two about looking for an enemy...Then again, he was an abbot.

Behind the elder stood another mouse, but this one stood in armor. His light-brown fur shown slightly, as his paw rested on a sheathed sword with a red jewel in it's hilt. He observed the work of the abbeybeasts with interest, but did not seem to be helping in the least. He wore a red tunic beneath the shining armor and his face was grim. It was plain to anybeast that he was a warrior. Odd. Both Sharpfur and Copper had been sure that the abbey was bone dry of warriors yet...

"Father Abbot, no vermin have been found." A squirrel said, coming up the elder mouse. "I'm afraid the varmint got away."

Abbot Illian frowned.

"Go tell the otters Skipper left us to double the guards on the walls. I want to make sure that if he's still here that he won't be able to slip away."

Sharpfur smirked to himself as the squirrel nodded and went off to obey. Stupid woodlanders. Copper will have an easy time twisting them to his wants...not that they were evil or anything...well, that was still in debate he guessed. Even he couldn't see the threads of Copper's thoughts meet, and he knew the fox better then anybeast.

After the squirrel wandered off and left the two mice alone, an adult otter came forward and began to talk to the abbot. Sharpfur had to strain his ears to hear from his height, but he had superb hearing, and reading lips was a synch...though a challenge from so high.

"Father, I think it's about time we 'old a counsel." The otter said firmly. "We've been taking this thing far too lightly. If one o'their kind could get in, then we should be prepared. They could be plannin' to attack this very night for all we know."

The abbot folded his paws in his sleeves, furrowing his brow.

"I am no military beast, Brandy, but I do believe you are right. However I prefer if we wait for Skipper Rogth's return. He would know how to handle this type of situation."

"But Skipper's not 'ere, Father." Brandy objected with a frown. "We don't know 'ow long it'll be until 'e get's back. He could 'ave 'ad a run-in with vermin."

Abbot Illian sighed, frustrated.

"He said he would try to return tomorrow morning. If all went well, he'll be back with more of the ottercrew to help us. Besides, the vermin haven't exactly attacked yet."

Brandy let out a breath.

"Very well Father. But I'll be sure to keep the otters guardin' the wall alert and ready."

"Yes." The old mouse nodded. "Please do."

The otter departed grimly, walking off to see to the walls. Sharpfur noted how upset the Abbot seemed, though he was impassive to it.

"Martin help us." Illian said in a downhearted tone.

As if on cue, the mouse in armor behind the abbot stretched out his paw and placed it on the old mouse's shoulder. Sharpfur nearly gasped and fell from his hiding place as the mouse suddenly shot his head up and glared at the ferret. His eyes were merciless and vengeful, so full of rage that it struck fear into the ferret's soul. The vermin was an intruder on his home and was not wanted. The assassin was so sure he had been found out, though he had remained silent. But the mouse shouted no warning to the Redwallers. He simply stared at the ferret awhile, before dropping his gaze and following the elder mouse out of the great room.

Sharpfur took his chance as the room cleared and climbed down, making his way by the shadows to the walls. He wanted to get out of there and get back to camp...where strange mice did not pierce into his soul and make him quiver. The sooner he left, the better.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Copper smirked to himself as he finished the last line on the parchment. He blew on the ink to dry it and then looked at the copy he'd stolen from his father's tent. With some slight adjustments, the outcome had been pleasing. The last part to his plans now was basing his next moves off the information Sharpfur had gathered. The plan would succeed, too much time and work had been put into it not to.

Folding both parchments, he slipped them inside of the back shirt he now wore, where it would be safe from idle eyes. He stood up from the table and began to clear the surface of parchment and ink. Replacing the supplies in their small case and slipping it into the satchel about his waist. Picking up his cloak from the back of his chair, and flinging his about his shoulders, he caught sight of a squirrel off in the corner.

"Brick do me a favor will you?" He said, buckling his cloak under his chin. "Have two plates of dinner ready and a large flask of damson wine left on the table waiting for Sharpfur's return."

The red squirrel nodded.

"Yes Master Copper. I'll have it done."

The fox nodded and made for the tent exit.

"I'll be back shortly."

He left the tent and sucked in a breath of cool, winter air. The snowfall that had covered the ground and was now silently worse then it had been earlier. No doubt the storm would pick up by tomorrow...a terrible condition to travel in. Yet he still believed the weather was on his side. It's hard to move a horde in such conditions...and that's the way he wanted it.

Making his way along the camp, he stomped through the snow towards his brother's tent. He grinned to himself as he saw Slickcast, sitting unhappily in the snow, with a small fire in front of him. Wrapped tightly in a cloak, he tried to warn his paw over the tiny fire as he shouted for a slave to get more wood. Much to Copper's delight, he had a scowl on, that only increased when his eyes caught sigh of his brother.

"What do you want?" The red fox sneered moodily, pulling his cloak tight and leaning near the fire.

Copper shrugged and stopped before his brother, his grin ever growing.

"I heard Blackivy is giving birth to your hellspawn and decided I'd come congratulate you with my presence that you so deeply despise."

"Watch your mouth, little brother!" Slick snarled as he shivered in the snow. "That 'hellspawn' will be the continuation of my glory."

Copper smirked.

"Glory, eh?" He crossed his arms and looked down in amusement. "I know not the glory you speak of...perhaps it was that glory you gained by ignoring my advice and getting that patrol killed."

Slickcast nearly snapped, it took all his self control to not jump up and tear his sibling's throat out with his teeth. He'd been sitting in the cold snow for the past few hours and his mood wasn't at it's best.

"Shut up and go away." He snarled. "Your presence defiles the air I breathe."

Copper's smiled widened and he pulled his cloak tight.

"In that case..." He sat right down across the fire from Slickcast. "I think I'll stay."

The red fox growled and looked away. A young otter slave came forward, bearing more wood for the fire. Slickcast snapped at him violently and took the wood from the slave's paws. Pushing the unfortunate otter back, he began heaping logs onto the fire to increase the heat. Copper watched impassively as his sibling crowded close to the flames. Behind him the young otter was getting up from the snow and curling up beside the tent.

"So..." Copper said, looking at his sharp claws with a smirk as he listened to the chattering teeth of Slick. "They kicked you out of your own tent...such a pity."

"Beasts will be pitying you as I rip your guts out if you don't get lost." Slickcast replied with a snort.

The younger fox put on a hurt expression and put a paw to his chest in mock surprise.

"Well!" He said in a shocked voice. "That was a bit hurtful! Oh Slick, you could crush the sweetness out of sugar if you could. Where's the brotherthy love?"

"There's no love last between us, Copper." The red fox growled.

"Alleluia! You're so uplifting." The younger vermin said. "Come, you should be happy! You're going to get a screaming runt as an addiction to our family!"

Slickcast growled and went to snap back, when a female rat came out of the tent, wiping her brow.

"Slickcast, Sire, it is over..." Was all she got out before the red fox dashed by her in haste to see his 'hellspawn'. The rat tumbled as she was pushed out of the way and the turned her glare after the fox.

"Now, now, have some respect." Copper said from behind her, easily sensing her anger. "He is a new father after all."

The rat turned briskly around to face the fox, who sat smirking at the fire. Copper raised his eyes to greet the rat's, they were dark yet they burned with bright satisfaction.

"He'll raise the cub to his own will and power..." He turned his gaze back into the fire. "-much like father did to him."

He sat there for a few moments, as though he was hypnotized by the reaching flames before shaking his head and standing. He smiled at the rat as he dusted his cloak of snow and pulled his hood up, shadowing his face.

"Tell me, loyal rat. Was it a male that was born to my brother?"

The ratmaid nodded vigorously.

"Aye, n'a female, sire. There were two."

Copper's eyes widened a bit in the shadow of his cowl.

"So..." He said, starting to walk away. "My brother has two...it seems hellgates is desperate for their spawn to rule the earth." As he trudged away, he turned back slightly and tossed the rat a gold coin. She looked at him with a confused expression.

"It's for your service, rat." He turned and stomped off towards his tent. "And your information."

The fox smiled genuinely to himself and let out a breath, watching the cloud in the cool night air. Things were going better then he had planned. No doubt Slickcast would be so caught up in the arrival of his 'spawn' that his mind would be anywhere but on his brother. And that's how Copper wanted it. Strange, he thought, warlords and horde leaders rarely care if their mate brings forth child...unless they have a thought, or position of power. Then they could pass on their 'glory', as Slick had called it, to their offspring. Otherwise they could care less about their cubs...not a very appealing thing to the fox.

Copper frowned suddenly at the thought. He'd be the one to take the care from the cubs, born that night. He'd take their father's glory and ground it into dust. He'd ruin their lives by his plans. Then again, Slickcast and old Doxtriz had more or less trampled over his life, so why was he feeling..upset about paying his brother back?

"Because I'm not really getting them back...all this will land on the cubs."

A thought jumped into Copper's mind and her smirked. He'd fix it, all of it. The cubs won't bear the burden of their father's stupidity. That is as long as it wasn't hereditary. But time...he needed to wait. Everything was working like clay in his paws. This night was only getting better and better. Slickcast's spawn being born, Sharpfur inside the abbey-yes-everything was going better then according to plan. There was no way this could fail now.


	15. Any Fox of Cunning

Brandy jolted awake as a young otter came bursting into the gatehouse shouting his name at the top of his lungs. Brandy had been up late into the night, watching out for the vermin Isa had seen to make a move. After many hours with no sight of hide or tail of the beast, the otter had retired, suggesting some of the others do the same as well. Just in case he was needed, he had slept in the gate house behind a stack of barrels. His poor head was now pounding from lack of sleep and the shouts of the young otter looking for him. Sitting up, he peeked though an opening between two barrels and watched the otter call for him enthusiastically.

"Halter...Halter quiet down I'm right 'ere." Brandy said tiredly, eyelids drooping.

The young otter Halter, spun about and saluted the elder beast, eyes ahead. Every beast knew it was the young one's dream was to be the next Skipper, his efforts to impress his elders made it obvious.

"Mister Brandy, sir! Skipper Rogth and t'squirrels are just coming through t'gates, sir! Jesparr sent me t'get ye, sir!"

"Enough with the 'sirs' already, Halter." Brandy said as he stumbled up and stretched. "I hold no authority really, other than being your uncle. 'Uncle' or 'Brandy' will be fine, as I've told you before." Something cracked in the otter's back as he spoke and he groaned, rubbing the sore spot. He muttered something about being 'too young for that' and started for the door, Halter right behind him.

"Jesparr says Skip ran into some vermin scouts." The young otter rambled. "A few squirrels and otters were lost, but the vermin were all killed. None were captured. Skip's waitin' in Great Hall for you."

Brandy nodded as he made his way across the lawn to the abbey. He took note of the looks of a brewing storm in the clouds ahead and quickened his pace.

"Anything else I should know?" He asked, knowing that the young beast was far from done.

"Aye." Halter said, scratching his head. "Father Abbot says 'e'll be 'olding the council as soon as ye and Skip get in 'is office. 'e said work first, breakfast later. Though there'll probably be tea or somethin' t'drink in there...""

Pushing open the red doors of the abbey, the elder otter nodded seriously.

"Alright, ye can go now, Halt. No need for a young beast like you to miss breakfast. Run along and get some food..." Then after a comical thought he added. "N'and that's an order!"

Halter stiffened and saluted Brandy, before turning and rushing off towards the kitchen. The otter chuckled to himself as he watched his nephew run off. It never ceased to amaze him how much the young beast was like his father. All business and no play, well for the most part. Every young beast is pulled to having some fun in their young lives. The otter frowned as he thought of his long-dead brother. The otter had been ill for several weeks before dying and leaving his wife, Kelia and his son. Brandy had taken it as his duty to see that they were alright and happy since his sibling's passing. Still, Halter had grown to be as any cub would, wanting nothing more then to be just as his father was or more. From what he knew, his father was a good fighter, good friend and a serious beast...thus explaining his mood. He figured becoming the next Skipper would impress his father in Dark Forest, so he had set his heart on it.

"He misses you, Rugger." The otter mumbled to himself as he entered Great Hall. He quickly pushed all thoughts of his brother aside as he stepped into Great Hall.

Skipper Rogth stood at the corner of the room, wearing his kilt, lacking his shirt and bearing a deep frown. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were narrowed in thought. As Brandy approached his old friend, he was about to question what was the matter when he saw Freespring in the corner of his eye. Turned, he watched as she went off to gossip with a group of her friends. It seemed that she had just been speaking to the otter chieftain before he came about. It was all too clear at why the Skipper's mood was the way it was. Letting out a sigh, he marched up to the otter chieftain and greeted him.

"Rogth ol'mate! Good t'see you alive in one piece!"

"Uh?" Rogth turned to see Brandy's smirking face. He seemed to be in a daze. "Oh, it's you..."

The slightly younger otter laughed as he slapped the Skipper's back. Rogth tumbled a bit beneath the blow before straightening and sending Brandy a glare.

"Who else would it be, mate?" The younger otter smirked. "Yore grandmammy? Didn't you miss me? Weren't ya worried I might die without ye?"

Rogth grunted and turned briskly about, tramping down the corridor. His mood was definitely not at it's best.

"Ever since we were young and wild, I've watched out for ye since yore too stupid to do it yoreself. I hoped ye could survive a few days. Now c'mon, the Abbot has started without us."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taft stared impatiently at his paws as the older beasts about him argued and debated over what to do about Doxtriz and his invading horde. He'd been asked by the Abbot to join the council while Sister Cria had been re-bandaging his slow-healing wounds that morning. The very thought of having to remember everything he could for the council was depressing for the young mouse. However he'd do anything for Skipper and the otter would want him to, wouldn't he? The Skipper had been away too long for the young beast and he wanted desperately to see him again.

The mouse sighed heavily and twittled his thumbs. He was missing his first reading class because of this meeting and he hadn't even been asked anything yet! He craved the thought of just leaving...but then again, he didn't want to anger the elders in the room. Suddenly, Sister slammed her paw on the table, making the tiny beast jump with fright, startled. He looked at the badger, returning to the present.

"We've waited far too long!" She growled in her fierce voice. "Those vermin are up to no good and I don't like the silence! We should have crushed them days ago! Or at least them us!"

Abbot Illian frowned.

"I promised Skipper I would wait."

Captain Critalli, leader of the MPS, or Mossflower Patrol Squirrels, also slammed his own fist upon the table in anger. He had stayed behind in case the Abbey was attacked and hadn't been happy about missing action. The red squirrel just craved battling.

"This is a time of war Father, not just a meeting for choosing the season name! We must strike now if we are to be victorious! Rogth could very well have been killed out there! We cannot wait for him any longer!"

The old mouse stared grimly at the Captain.

"Rogth knows more about defensive warfare then any of us, Critalli. He is valuable and his advice keen."

The Mother badger beside the old mouse grunted.

"I'm sorry Father Abbot, but we have waited long enough. Critalli is right. We can no longer wait for Skipper to aid us. We could be besieged tomorrow! We can't wait anymore."

"Then you don't have to."

All eyes turned to the door, where Skipper Rogth stood in the threshold. He was dressed in his kilt, a long saxe knife hung by his side and there was a dark green cape draped about his bare shoulders. Brandy stood behind the grim-faced otter and waved to the elders from the back with a grin. Both moved towards the group.

Taft's heart skipped a beat as he turned to see the stong otter he had missed. His eyes sparkled in excitement as he immediately slipped from his chair and dashed over to the chieftain without a second thought. Rogth nearly had the wind knocked out of him as the mouse rushed into him with a furious hug. He looked down with surprise at the sudden sight of Taft and then smiled, returning the embrace. He looked the petite beast over and found that over the short time he had been gone, the mouse already seemed healthier and happier then when he had first been brought to the Abbey.

"Well, hello Taft." The otter said with a grin as he rustled the young beast's headfur. "I hope you've been behavin' while I've been out."

The mouse beamed at the sound of his hero's strong voice. He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Abbot Illian.

"He has been well in your absence, Rogth...however I'm afraid that our current situation may change that for the entire Abbey."

The Skipper's brow furrowed as he took Taft's paw and went over to take a chair near the table. The mouse followed happily, still inwardly rejoicing at his friend's return. As he settled himself down in a chair by the otter, the Abbot explained the past night's events with as much detail as possible. Taft was too busy being excited to listen. He just stared a Rogth in awe. He couldn't wait to tell the otter that he was going to learn to read! A long-awaited dream. He was only pulled from his cloudy, joyous thoughts when the Abbot finished speaking.

"...And that's why we brought young Taft in." The old mouse stated, nodding towards the light-spirited Taft. "We thought his information may prove to be helpful in the future."

Rogth glanced down at the small beast beside him and noticed the sudden frown forming. The thought of having to make the young mouse dwell and speak of the pain and horrors he had endured was not relishing. He deserved try to have peace now. He was still young, still had so much to look forward to...why pull him back by making him relive his past?

"I don't think that will be necessary Father." Skipper said firmly. "I've seen enough to give us some details about these vermin. Taft is not needed in this meeting, I can assure you that."

"But Rogth..." Critalli leaned forward, his elbows on the table they all sat around. "...Taft has lived about them for all his life. He can tell us far more then you ever could from just one glance..."

"I had more then a glance, squirrel." Skipper said in a defensive way. "I fought them and crushed them. We left none alive and lost few. Taft's presence is not needed."

Sister Fendila frowned, but nodded in agreement with the otter, understanding his reasoning.

"Rogth is right, Father Abbot." She said in her deep voice. "I do not belive that Taft needs to stay..."

"Fendila..." Critalli began with a sigh, before being cut off.

"I think I now agree, Critalli." The Abbot stated suddenly, leaning back in his seat and staring a Taft. "I'm sure there are other things this young beast would prefer to be doing rather than talking to a bunch of old fools like us."

Critalli caught the Skipper's gaze and frowned.

"Are you sure Rogth?" He asked, not convinced. "After all he is the most likely..."

"I am sure, Captain." The otter replied stiffly, trying to hold a glare from escaping. He gave a sideways glance at Taft and then let his gaze become solid as stone. It was then the Abbot intervened.

"Very well." He gave a small smile to Taft as he adjusted his specticals. "You may go, Taft. I'm sure Sister Isa is still somewhere about. Why don't you pay her a visit, eh?"

The mouse looked about the room, then up at the otter beside him. He didn't want to stay and talk about the foxes that had enslaved him, but he also didn't want to leave Skipper again.

"Go on." Rogth said with a grin, understanding Taft's torn look. "I'll meet up with you right after, I promise."

Taking the otter's words to heart, Taft reluctantly slipped from his chair and made for the door. He couldn't help but let his mood sink with each step he took away from Skipper. As he came to the door, he gripped the handle and sent a look towards the firm otter he admired. Skipper waved him on with a shooing motion of his paw and worded 'go'. Taft frowned and pulled on the door, letting himself out. As he closed the door, he watched Rogth lean forward in his seat to continue the discussion with a grim look on.

The second the door shut, Rogth turned on the Abbot with a frustrated voice.

"Just whose idea was it to get information from Taft?" His eyes narrowed as he spoke.

The old mouse looked blandly at the otter. He could understand why the otter was angry, but then again he thought the beast would have agreed...

"Critalli suggested it with the best intentions in mind..."

The large otter slammed his paw on the table with a growl as he sent a vicious glare at the squirrel Captain.

"Many of the worst things possible have come from those with the 'best intentions' in mind." He snarled lowly. "I don't want any of you to even consider asking Taft any questions about his life of slavery. Understand?"

Brandy spoke from where he sat next to the chieftain. Putting a paw on the heated otter's shoulder, he tried to stow the anger inside of his friend.

"Calm down, mate, they were only trying to help..."

Rogth growled again and glared at the younger otter forcefully.

"They may have been trying to help...but what good would it do the young one to remind him of what he suffered?"

"It was for the good of the entire Abbey, Rogth..." Critalli said with a huff. "One beast's life to all the Redwallers safety isn't much to ask-"

"Yes. It. Is." The chieftain hissed. "Redwall is not about destroying one life for others, it's about trying to save all. You would remind this beast, just barely older then a cub, of seasons of agony and pain for the safety of others? It kills a small part of him every time he thinking of them. I know. I'm the one who found him shivering in pure terror and pain in the snow! I'm the one who read the fear of his face as he squirmed away from me, thinking I was a vermin. He was bleeding and petrified to death. There was far too much pain in his eyes. Too much for one so young. Finally, he's slowly coming alive for once in his life and you want him to start reliving his nightmares? That is not how Redwall works, Critalli. If this is how you will treat him here I'll take him back to the holt with me."

"Rogth, it's not like we're killing him or anything..." Mother Fendila started before the otter snapped his head at her with a glare.

"Physically, no. But mentally, yes. That cub's gone through enough, just leave him be. I would sooner fight a battle blind, then reopen mental scars in that young one's life."

Critalli slammed his paw down on the table in anger.

"That is your choice, Skipper, however the entire safety of the Abbey rests on Taft's informa-"

"Enough!" Everybeast snapped their attention to Abbot Illian, looking grim and heated. The old mouse looked at them all disapprovingly. "We will continue without Taft. The fighting I listen to here is mind wrecking. We shall speak no further of the young mouse. For season after season we have depended on Martin the Warrior for help, why should we lose faith in him now?"

"Martin has only ever given us clues, Father." Critalli said in a low voice. "Taft could give us solid information to act on."

The Abbot gave the Captain a scrutinized look and set his paws on the table.

"That may be, however I would stand by Skipper in this case, as I have not lost faith in Martin. He will help us, with or without Taft. The young one deserves peace and I don't think Martin would want us to harm the young beast in any way, as he knew what slavery was like himself."

"And if Martin does not come through?" Fendila asked in her gruff voice.

The old mouse looked into the badger's eyes and frowned.

"Redwall has promised peace to every creature in need. Taft needs peace of mind, and we are not permitted to take that from him." He sighed. "That is my last word on the matter. We do not need Taft to fight this foe. Understand? We shall speak no more of it."

Everybeast mumbled confirmation and the room went quiet. Rogth still glared a bit a Critalli and Mother Fendila and Brandy merely shrugged. After a while, Illian thought is was about time to get back to buisness when a sudden voice interrupted him.

"For being a mouse...you curtainly can shut a crowd up."

All heads turned quickly towards the speaker and gasped when their eyes caught the glint of orange fur in the morning sunlight. A fox sat upon the windowsill, looking out over Redwall with little interest. He bore a blank, semi-emotionless face and his black-tipped ears were turned towards the debating woodlanders. His eyes were pitch black and dangerous, deep and searching as he looked down from his perch on the Abbey grounds. He was clad in a black tunic, a midnight cape about his shoulders and thick leather boots that stretched to the knees. Across his torso was a thick, black belt, holding a great, sheathed, blue-jemmed broadsword to his back. Strapped to his upper legs, were two matching blades, daggers and from his left boot produced the hilt of a dirk.

As the Abbey elders gasped and quickly rose from their seats reaching for weapons, the fox smirked without turning to look on them.

"Did I catch you off guard?" He said in an amused tone. "When an enemy is close, you must always be prepared, did your fathers teach you nothing?"

Skipper growled, brandishing his strong saxe that he pointed at the fox.

"Who are you and how did you get in?" The otter's eyes beamed dangerously at the intruder, however the fox seemed to ignore the chieftain. He took a deep breath of morning air, relishing it's cold beauty before responding.

"Oh don't worry waterdog, if I wanted to do you harm I could have easily done it twenty times by now." The fox still had not turned his face towards the beasts present as he spoke and merely waved a paw to emphasize his point.

Rogth let out a snarl and took a step towards the intruding fox, ready to kill when Brandy put a paw on his shoulder to stop him.

"What is it you want fox?" The younger otter questioned, eyes narrowing.

Copper smirked and turned his black eyes to the group, scanning each of them with mild interest.

"You are the elders of this place?" He asked calmly, still grinning.

"Aye!" Skipper threatened. "And if you don't turn tail and get lost I'll tear you limb from limb!"

The fox smiled at the otter as he hopped from the windowsill to stand in front of the Redwallers. He wasn't much taller then the otter in full height, and his tail flicked as he confronted the chieftain.

"Come now otter, I haven't raised a claw against you, yet you wish to do such a violent act! I was so sure this Abbey was a place of peace!"

Mother Fendila growled and stepped forward, looking viciously at the vermin.

"It is for those who are peaceful." She pointed an accusing claw at the fox. "Yet your kind has threatened our peace. So state your business and be gone before we allow Skipper to vent his anger."

Copper dipped his head to the badger respectfully.

"I can assure you, Madam, I bring only peace on my platter." He straightened and turned his head towards the heated otter. "However, should the 'Skipper' loose all self-control, I would be obliged to defend myself."

"Rogth will not do you harm, so long as you do none to us." Abbot Illian stated suddenly. "If you bring peace, I am willing to speak with you. Why are you here?"

The fox bowed.

"I am from the 'invading' forces of Doxtriz Gorelimb. I wish to speak of...important matters with you."

Critalli crossed his arms and eyed the fox skeptically.

"What sort of 'important matters'?"

Copper shrugged.

"It could change the tide of the tensions between my horde and your Abbey...better on your part."

"You still have not told us who you are, so why should we trust you?" Brandy asked firmly, still gripping the Skipper's shoulder.

The fox smiled at the otter, sizing him up.

"If my name was a ground of gaining trust, then life would be a simple matter." Copper waved a paw towards the door. "As to who I am...ask the mouse, Taft. He knows me."

At that Rogth growled and pulled from Brandy's grip, charging the fox. Copper was expecting such a rush from at least one of the elders of the Abbey, since they were all so soft-hearted for slaves. He simply side-stepped the otter and the blade clanked harmlessly on one of the red stone windowsill behind him. Then, one well-forced kick to the Skipper's stomach caused the beast to topple over, gasping for breath.

"Tensing up lets the enemy know of your attack." The fox said, waving a claw at the wheezing otter. "It's an old warriors rule, I thought a beast like you would know such a thing."

"You know nothing of warriors!" Rogth roared, looking up with hatred-glinting eyes at the fox. "Warriors do not torture helpless, young slaves for amusement!"

Copper nodded, his face slightly grim.

"That is something we can agree on."

"Yet you have done so to Taft!" The Skipper growled, standing back up and gripping his blade tightly. "You tormented him from birth! You are scum!"

Copper stared at the otter for a moment.

"I have never beaten a slave." The fox stated calmly. "Bring the mouse, he will tell you...if such a thickhead as you is willing to listen."

"No." The otter snarled angrily. "I'm never letting your kind near him again!"

Abbot Illian folded his paw in his sleeves and stepped out in front of the group.

"If you were not Taft's master, then who are you?"

The fox smirked and saluted the mouse lightly.

"I am Copper, the one who sent you the message. You did receive it, did you now?"

They each looked at each other in shock. Critalli scratched his head in confusion, as did others in the room.

"You mean...you're the one who let Taft go free? I didn't expect a fox..."

Copper nodded.

"Yes." He turned to glare slightly at Rogth. "I am the one who released Taft. I also bought and renamed him. I am the one who warned you of my father's horde. Yet I see you do not think much of that do you? As to being a fox...well what did you expect? A fellow slave?"

Mother Fendila suddenly decided enough talk had gone on. Coming forward, she pulled a confused Skipper back by his shoulders into his seat. It was obvious he didn't know what to make of the fox at this new revelation, however he continued to glare at the vermin in distrust. The badger then turned an eye on the fox, weighing him up. After a moment she pulled up a chair and gestured to it.

"Sit and tell us of your odd actions. If you mean well, you shall not be harmed."

Copper's smirk returned and he thanked the Mother Badger reverently before taking to the seat. The other beasts about the room followed in suite, each leaning in around the table with interest. Abbot Illian settled himself comfortably in his chair and watched as the fox waited for each creature to be attentive. It didn't take long, as each of the Redwall elders were eager to hear what the vermin had to say. However, the fox surprised them yet again as he suddenly stood up and made for the window.

"Hey! You said-" Rogth started from his chair, rising to follow the fox when Brandy pulled him back again.

Copper turned his eyes to the otter and grinned.

"Don't worry your pretty head ol'ruddertail, I'll make it clear in a moment." He looked back out the window and cupped his paws in a strange way. "Let me just call a friend, eh?"

The elders watched curiously as the fox brought his cupped paws to his lips and blew into them. They were astonished when an owl-like sound suddenly came from the vermin's paws. He blew a strange sequence before turning from the window back to his seat. All watched as he silently sat down and began brushing off his shirt. They were each equally confused by his strange set of actions, foxes were indeed odd beasts as the stories said.

After a few moments of dead silence, Critalli could no longer hold back his thought.

"Um...What exactly...was that for?"

Copper looked up at him and grinned.

"No need to worry my bushy-tailed beast, I'm not insane. I have a method to my madness. Just wait, give him a second more, he's never been exact with timing and I don't expect him to be."

Just as the fox was finishing his sentence, a strong, black ferret seemed to appear from nowhere on the windowsill, causing the beasts to gasp. He slipped from the cold outside and shut the shutters that the Abbot left open for fresh air. He then nodded towards Copper and remained standing by the windowsill with his arms crossed as the fox began to speak.

"Now we can begin." Copper said as he stood up and put his paws behind his back, taking on a serious expression. "As I have already said, my name is Copper. I understand I have surprised you by being a fox and all, but that's beside the point. I am here on a very serious matter, for both you and I. You see, the horde which now stands out in your forests, doesn't exactly want to take you over like all the hordes in the past...well I mean, eventually they will. But for now, they are seeking something else."

"And what might that be?" Abbot Illian asked when the fox had paused.

Copper grinned slightly and reached his paw into his shirt, pulling out the parchment he had written up the night before. He waved it at the Abbot mouse .

"I've learned that your Abbey is fond of riddles" He slapped the paper on the table before him. "I've brought you yet another to solve. The answer is what Doxtriz wants."

Critalli grunted and looked hard at the fox.

"So why has he come then? What has this to do with us?"

Taking his seat, Copper tapped his claws on the parchment, eying all present.

"We have figured out the first part, however the rest is yet unclear because no one has followed the directions further. You see, this riddle is much like the ones in your history. It's a map and it has required curtain creatures to be the ones to uncover it's secrets."

"Just what exactly does this map lead to?" Rogth asked gruffly.

Copper smiled and shrugged.

"This riddle has been passed down through the Gorelimb family for seasons. Rumors are all we have to guess where and what it leads to."

Mother Fendila crossed his big arms and glared at the vermin.

"You said the map required curtain beasts to follow it, who might they be?"

The dark clad fox smirked and unfolded the paper, scanning it's contents. He cleared his throat before reciting the contents in a loud, clear voice.

"The antient gift to Gorelimb grand  
Is hidden far beneath the land,  
To those who idly wish it find,  
Woe to those, your wicked kind.

Four must seek, one must find,  
The place this gift is enshrined,  
A warrior from a place of peace  
The one of bloodline to release.

The one of low and timid birth,  
Who hardly seemed to have a worth,  
Two more beasts may follow them,  
But one of which shall be condemned.

See the sun, follow through the day,  
Never from the path do stray,  
Through the home of creatures cold,  
Travel there, warrior be bold!

Go where beasts breathe no air,  
Yet many lives still yet live there,  
Cross this country,the sun does rest,  
To begin his short slumber blest.

Five long days must be spent,  
It's all you have to repent,  
Leave and return across the foam,  
The last chance to return home.

There it lies, the place is there,  
Beast do tread with good care,  
For the ground is ever hungry,  
Do not go along too boldly!

Search this place and you will see,  
The entrance of the gift will be,  
There the bloodline one must go,  
He must follow the airflow.

Carved it is, for you to glance,  
Do not be taken into trance,  
Here it is the gift does lie,  
Use it wisely, lest you die."

Abbot Illian furrowed his brow as the fox finished and set the paper down. Copper simply smiled and leaned back in his chair.

"So you came here for one of us?" The old mouse questioned. "The 'warrior from a place of peace'?"

The vermin nodded before resting his elbows on the table.

"Yes, for the most part. This riddle requires a beast from a place of peace, which would be an Abbey. And what Abbey has a warrior besides Redwall? Doxtriz came here to find this warrior."

"How do you fit into all this?" Critalli demanded suddenly. "What do you get out of this? Vermin never go into a deal without a profit!"

Copper gave a comical expression and stared hard at the squirrel Captain.

"I am not vermin, sir. The correct definition of 'vermin' is an objectionable or disgusting animal. Especially those of small size that appear commonly and are difficult to control, as flies, lice, bedbugs, cockroaches, mice, and rats. Notice, squirrel, I am none of those. Objectionable, maybe, but nothing more. Now you could easily qualify as a pest."

The Captain flushed in anger and rose from his chair, eyes gleaming.

"I think you've out-stayed your visit, fox." He hissed.

"Now, now, Critalli." Fendila stated with a small smile on her lips. "The beast does have a point..."

"You still have not told us why we should help you." Rogth stated grimly, arms crossed and eyes daring. "How do we know ye aren't with Doxtriz?"

Copper merely shrugged.

"I want to be on the winning side." He folded the riddle back up and replaced it to the safety of his shirt. "Let us simply say...I am not fighting beside that horde out there, nor with you. I have my own reasons for this. However, if you were to beat Doxtriz to his 'gift' then you would have the upper paw if the present situation resulted in war."

"How is that?" Brandy asked curiously.

"It's simple." Copper gave the otter a grin. "Doxtriz believes that this 'gift' will make him invincible. I think it's ridiculous. I would sooner side with the winners then with fools."

"Why?" Rogth demanded.

Copper smirked.

"Any fox of cunning would."


	16. More Than What is Seen

Taft tried to focus all his mind on copying the letters exactly. He bit his lip as he moved the ink pen awkwardly over the paper. His claws kept slipping down the pen and the paper seemed to shift all over the place as he wrote. It was extremely frustrating work. How beasts could do it with such ease was beyond him. Sister Isa had left him to his work to fetch a snack for the struggling, but determined mouse. A large glob of ink sprayed the page as he dragged the tip of the pen across the parchment. He stopped and looked down at his now splattered tunic and frowned. He certainly was making a mess of every tunic he'd been given so far.

Sighing, he placed the ink pen down on the desktop and looked at his paws. They were black and smudged with ink, making everything he touched leave his mark. Growing slightly frustrated, he tried to wipe them off on more of the paper, however he only managed in knocking the whole stack of fresh paper on the ground. He gasped slightly as he saw the papers fly about to land all over the floor. Fearing Sister Isa's wrath, the young mouse hopped from his stool and began replacing the papers in a pile. Unfortunately, he had momentarily forgotten his soiled paws until he saw black pawmarks all over the stacked papers.

Sighing in defeat the mouse frowned and decided the best course of action to avoid getting a scolding, was to wash his dirtied paws. Unfortunately, upon looking about, he had no materials to do so. Perhaps if he went outside...there was lots of snow, and snow was water right? Yes, that's what he'd do. Go outside and bring back snow in a bucket or something. That would clean the mess up and prevent him from getting a scolding!

Full of a new, childish hope, the young mouse hopped up from the floor and made for the door. Though as he reached for the handle, the door suddenly swung open, knocking him over and causing him to hit his head on a desk and land face first on the floor. His luck certainly wasn't with him today.

"Taft! I'm so sorry, I didn't see ye, little mate! Yore not hurt are ye?"

Then again, maybe his luck wasn't that bad, for the voice was none other than Skipper's. Taft felt two stong paws lift him from the ground in a gently motion with plenty of ease. The mouse rubbed his sore head and face, soothing the light throbbing the bumps had caused. He'd again, forgotten his dirtied paws.

"Ye okay?" Skipper's voice questioned again, filled with concern.

Taft looked up and his 'battle wounds' were momentarily forgotten as he latched his arms about the astonished otter in a bear hug. He pressed his face to the chieftain's broad chest with and effort to show how much he had missed him.

"Erm...ah, Taft...I know you're happy t'see me n'all, but if you keep hugging me so fiercely I'm afraid I'll wither away from lack of air!"

The young mouse instantly let go and looked up at the otter, his eyes sparked happiness. Rogth grinned at the mouse.

"Hey, mate, you sure are a mess!" He said his a light laugh. "What's all this?"

He took the little mouse's paws into his own and uncured them, showing the blackened fur. The young beast's face was now also had smudges of ink from when he rubbed it and his tunic bore globs of ink seeped into the fabric. It was then the otter looked about the room and observed the mess of ink, paper and smudge marks. Taft noticed this and instantly dropped his head in shame.

"I was going to clean it up..." He said quietly, earning a look from the Skipper.

"I'm sure ye were." The otter said before giving a smile that dissolved Taft's fear of a scolding. "Just what were ye doin' to cause such a mess?"

Taft's eyes sparkled as he eagerly grabbed the otter's strong paw with his inky one and pulled him across the room. He led Rogth to the desk he had sat at and picked up the paper he had been focused on. Lifting it up for the otter's inspection he let Skipper take it into his paws. After a second of squinting his eyes the otter smiled.

"Well, now! I'd swear this say's 'Taft'." He gave the small mouse a wink. "I wonder who could have done it with such hard effort that it caused the ink to splatter and paper tear a bit? Surely it wasn't Sister Isa was it? She never works this hard on getting things just right."

Taft shook his head.

"It wasn't Sister Isa, it was me!" He said, his voice filled with excitement. "I wrote my name! Sister Isa showed me how!"

Rogth grinned and nodded his head in satisfaction, glad to see the young one so joyful.

"Ye've done a right fine job, too!" He rustled the mouse's headfur and then pulled his paw away when he saw more ink smear into Taft's headfur. He looked down at his paw and laughed. "Well, seems I've got inky paws too now! We'd best clean up before Sister Isa comes back, I don't wanna get sent to Father Abbot for bein' naughty n'leavin' pawprints all about!"

To Rogth's surprise, Taft actually laughed. It was a young one's laugh, the laugh of one who was innocent and carefree, a laugh he never thought Taft would have. He smiled at the mouse, happy to see him so lighthearted for the first time. He put an arm around the youngbeast and handed him the paper with the ink work on it.

"Here, let's get cleanin'. I'll go get a bucket o'water and some rags. Then we can clean our paws, stack t'papers back up and scrub this place down."

Taft nodded, but pushed the paper back into Rogth's paws.

"Keep it." He said simply. "It's a present."

Rogth smiled at the mouse and folded the piece of paper, sliding it under his belt.

"Thank ye, Taft. Now let's get cleanin'!"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"No! Absolutely not! With all do respect Abbot, are you insane?"

Critalli's fur was flared and his eyes fiery as he argued with the Abbot, (something only he would do without care). He stamped his foot like an angry cub as he spoke in stern anger. Poor, tired Abbot Illian sat at his desk with the fuming squirrel, Brandy and the two vermin opposite of him, listening to the Captain's ranting. He was growing weary with fighting the him and simply wished to retire to bed. He wasn't a young mouse any longer and such long discussions made him easily tire.

"Father Abbot, we can't just let them stay like that! We hardly know anything about them! They just waltzed into our Abbey, right through our defenses! We should at least question them first! How do we know this isn't part of Doxtriz's plans?"

"Your defenses are not as sturdy as you would like to believe, squirrel." Sharpfur said blankly. "I had little trouble pulling myself and Copper through them. Believe me, if Doxtriz knew how to sneak about that way, he'd probably already have come in and out of your Abbey by now! We could have easily gotten him in if we were sided with the bloodhound."

Copper crossed his arms and nodded in confirmation.

"It's true." He stated simply. "Your forces are thin compared to ours. However I can see where the squirrel is coming from, so let us not be too rash to him...he could get offended."

Critalli snarled at the smirking fox and was about to snap a rude insult back when Abbot Illian stood up, his paws gesturing for silence. Copper gave the Abbot his undivided attention, as did Brandy, but Sharpfur and Critalli shared a quick look of contempt with each other before looking away. This did not go unnoticed by the Abbot.

"I understand your concerns Captain, I really do. However I must not overlook the fact that these two creatures could be telling the truth. If they are, then allowing them to return to the camp would not be wise."

Copper nodded, swishing his tail back and forth as he spoke.

"That is correct, Abbot. Slickcast may not have noticed my absence, but Father is sure to. It could be hours, days, or even this very minute that I could be discovered missing, then my betrayal would be written in stone."

"If you are discovered absent...wouldn't they march on Redwall?" Brandy asked, rubbing his chin. He had agreed to stay in Skipper's name since the Abbot had eventually asked the chieftain to leave, due to his ever raising anger and boiling temper that caused him to try attack both Copper and Sharpfur numerous times. Brandy had suggested that Rogth visit Taft and he'd take of of business there. Begrudgingly, the otter left. He'd needed to cool down.

Copper shook his head in answer to the otter's question.

"Doxtriz knows what I've come for. He may come to see if I'm here and try to take me back, but he's not interested in taking over Redwall just yet, as I have already said."

"Indeed." Illian said tiredly.

"You said earlier that Doxtriz came to Redwall because of the riddle..." Brandy thought aloud, looking to Copper for confirmation.

The fox nodded.

"I did. He came looking for your Abbey Warrior."

"We don't have one." Critalli spoke with force. "We haven't had one in seasons!"

Sharpfur raised a unbelieving brow at that and caught Copper's glance at him. The fox shook his head.

"Regardless." Brandy sighed. "He'll be looking for our best warrior."

Copper smirked a little.

"Bullseyes waterdog! And I'd say that your Skipper would fit the bill as that warrior. Since he truly was the only one beast enough to charge me earlier..."

Critalli snorted. He leaned forward in contempt and disgust at the thought of being charged with not fighting.

"I would have had I not been behind the table, vermin!" He snapped.

"Oh indeed." The fox grinned and rolled his eyes to Brandy. "I thought squirrel's were known for their agility. I'm sure if you were eager enough, you could have charged me, blades ablaze. Table or no table."

"Are you calling me a coward?" The squirrel Captain gaped in fury.

Copper merely smiled, crossing his strong arms.

"Perhaps."

That did it, Critalli pulled his blade from its sheath and snarled, challenging the vermin. He brandished his blade and pointed at the fox menacingly.

"Prepare to die fox, nobeast calls me a coward and lives! Arm yourself you vile, disgusting, wretched, foul-"

"Critalli please!" The Abbot frowned, looking hard at the squirrel. "I've had enough battling for one day."

"Nay Father! This matter is between he and I. It must be resolved!"

Copper rolled his eyes and then glared at the offending Captain, his eyes gleaming dangerously. His orange tail twitched back and forth in annoyance.

"Listen to the Abbot and put your toy away, squirrel. You could get hurt."

Critalli grunted and was about to snap back when he caught Brandy's eye. The otter had been watching curiously as the fox and squirrel went back and forth. It was now the time to put an end to it. In a clear, smooth motion, he ordered Critalli to stand down. The squirrel stood firm for a few moments, looking between Copper and Brandy before finally sheathing his sword.

"This is not over fox." He growled then turned briskly about and marched out, slamming the door behind him.

Copper turned towards the remaining beasts, shaking his head.

"Temper, temper, that squirrel must've been a pawful for his poor mother."

Brandy could not help but grin at that. He remembered Critalli as a cub, racing about the abbey when he visited and earning the name Abbey Bully. Oh he was a monster, right up until Rogth, Brandy and a few other abbey beasts tossed the squirrel into the pond after 'executing' him by the firing pie squad. The squirrel pouted about it for weeks after, even when Rogth and the others were punished with kitchen duties. The group had proudly taken the punishment, feeling as though they had liberated the Abbey of a pest and they were looked upon as heroes from the younger beasts.

Abbot Illian's voice broke through Brandy's memories. The mouse looked stressed and upset.

"Copper, I will allow you to stay here on the conditions that you do not anger or endanger our Abbey beasts. They are strained as it is with all this Doxtriz business floating about. Until we have come to a conclusion on the riddle, I ask you to please stay under the guard of one of our ottercrew."

Copper nodded respectfully in agreement, though Sharpfur didn't look the least bit happy about staying under guard.

"I'm sure the woodlanders here would become angry at just the sight of me, Abbot. but I shall try to behave during my stay." The fox straightened and looked serious once more. "I do ask that you take the shortest amount of time necessary at coming to a conclusion though. Doxtriz will come looking for me within the next day or so. I plan to be gone by then with those I need to figure out the riddle."

"I still don't see how he planned to try to get our warrior in the first place." Brandy said flatly. "If he wasn't planning on invading the Abbey, then how did he plan to get the warrior out?"

Sharpfur and Copper shared a look. The black clothed ferret took the liberty to answer the question, stepping forward so all eyes were on him.

"The bloodfox planned to use myself and a two other spys to carry out the task."

Both the Abbot and Brandy raised their brows at that.

"How did he plan to do that?" Illian asked with interest.

The ferret shrugged.

"Only two were to infiltrate the Abbey. the third was to keep our get away clear. I and the other spy were to come in, find the warrior and carry him back, bound and gagged. I would have been the carrier and the other would have been my guard."

"Since you two defected, then is it still possible for them to try to complete their task?"

Copper made a disinterested motion with his paw.

"They could try, but Sharpfur was the main course of the dinner. Without him, they won't be able to kidnap anybeast beside a babe, they're not stong enough. They come from far north, are skinny and weak, though skilled. Sharpfur was the strongest and the one who knows the most of the Abbey."

Abbot Illian frowned.

"You were the intruder last night weren't you?" He asked the ferret glumly. The vermin nodded confirmation.

"I was sent by Doxtriz to get my bearings of the place. Little did he know Copper had also sent me to find a way in. No full-scale mission could be completed without me."

"I supposed Sharpfur could tend to your weak spots that an spy might use to get into the Abbey. " Copper added. "This way the chances of Doxtriz sending more beasts in is thin."

Brandy crossed his arms and eyed the fox up and down.

"You seem awful willing to help us secure The abbey."

"My life depends on it." Copper shrugged. "If Doxtriz does guess I'm here and tries to send an spy in to confirm it...my throat will be cut and my head presented to him. And I'm sure you'll agree, that nobeast really wants to be separated from his head. It usually is a sign of permanently being out of business. Plus, my head isn't as heavy as a fully fit warrior, so it could definitely happen..."

Brandy grinned, then turned towards the Abbot.

"With your permission then, Father. I'll take them to their quarters and post guards..."

The mouse was already up and waving his paw to shoo the otter and vermin out.

"Yes, yes...though do inform Rogth of the decision. Knowing him he'll start a battle at the sight of these two, still being in the Abbey."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sister Isa struggled up the steps as she carryed a large tray, stacked with treats for herself and little Taft. She wasn't a young hedgehog anymore, but she wasn't exactly old either. After the fright with the vermin the previous night, she had been determined to watch after the young mouse that was now her pupil. She was practically convinced that the creepy ferret she'd run into was after the former slave. As a Redwaller, she felt it her duty to protect the defenceless and befriend them.

Finally reaching the last stair, she set about walking straight for the classroom that most youngster's avoided. She hurried to the door and gently, with some difficulty, pushed it open while still holding the tray. She looked up over her spectacles to see Rogth bending over Taft's small shoulder, watching him work. There was a slight scent of rose soap in the room and the desks looked exceptionally cleaner then normal.

Placing the tray on a nearby desk, she shuffled towards the two to see what they were about. She cleared her throat to make her presence acknowledged. Both Rogth and Taft turned her way, the younger's eyes beamed joy. The otter cheiftan nodded his greetings to her respectfully.

"Sister Isa." He turned his eyes on young Taft and rustled his headfur with a grin. "I was just checkin' on lil'Taft. 'e's shown me some pretty impressive writing skills already. With you as 'is teacher, 'e's sure to flourish."

Sister Isa's spikes bristled in pleasure at the remark.

"Why thank you, Rogth! Little Taft is a fine student so far. He's very attentive and listens well. With practice, I'm sure he'll be writing as good as anybeast before long."

Taft's eyes smiled with waves of joy. His dream was finally being recognized! He could write his name!

"However," Isa pushed her spectacles up on her nose and looked down at the young mouse. "-there's still much to learn. The names and sounds of letters, the correct way to write each and we certainly can't forget your numbers either!"

"That's very true, Sister." Skipper said, patting Taft's shoulder. "But I'm sure this little mouse is up to the challenge! Isn't that right, Taft?"

The young beast nodded vigorously, determined to learn all he could, regardless of the struggles.

"Well then..." Rogth turned to Isa. "I think he's worked enough this morning, don't you? Besides, ye've got other students who're probably waiting for ye t'start class!"

The hedgehog teacher nodded.

"I'd nearly forgotten!" She hurriedly turned about, picked up the tray of snacks and pushed it in the otter's stunned paws. "Here, take them back to the kitchens please. You can take Taft now, he's done for the day. I've got to go find Mother Fendila and take some of those young ones from her for schooling! Oh dear, I'm late as it is! I still have to refill the ink jars, replace bent quills, oh my!"

Isa hustled Taft from his seat and pushed both himself and Rogth out of the classroom. He turned about just in time to have the door shut in his face, making him blink in confusion and slight shock at being kicked out. He looked up at the Skipper and the otter returned the look with a shrug.

"Well, she's a busy bee." He said with a wink.

Taft's shoulders sagged lightly.

"I wanted to stay...I still need to thank her."

"Here now," Rogth nudged the glum mouse with the tray, grinning all the while. "Don't look so down in the ground about it. She gave us a task t'do, didn't she? What better thanks to give her then to do as she asked?"

Taft's ears perked up bit.

"What do I have to do?" He asked eagerly. "I want to thank her for letting me learn."

Rogth laughed before sticking the tray under the young mouse's nose.

"She asked us t'bring these snacks back to t'kichens." The strong otter sniffed the sugared fruit, buttered bread and candied chestnuts along with all the other treats there. "T'would be a shame to have to drag these good tasting things all the way back to the kitchens, eh mate?"

Taft shrugged.

"But she asked us to...didn't she?"

Skipper shook his head, straightening into a bold stance, pushing his shoulders back.

"Nay, Taft! She never would expect two growing beasts like us to make such a trip! It would be cruel! No, she wanted us to dispose of it!"

Poor Taft looked at the otter in confusion.

"But...? She wanted us to bring it in the kitchens..." The little mouse's ears began burning in shame. What was he missing that Rogth understood so well? What had Sister Isa said that he hadn't heard? He looked at the otter and grew even more confused. The elder bore a winning smile.

"Dear Taft," Skipper picked up a candied chestnut and held it before the mouse's eyes. "-Sister Isa wanted us t'eat these! How could we disobey such a command?" With that, the otter went to the stairs and sat down, feasting on the snacks. He beckoned the young mouse over with a wave of his paw.

Still slightly confused, Taft sat down on the steps near the classroom with Rogth, munching on candies, nuts and bread. The Skipper handed him a buttered piece of some sort of bread, shreads of berry over the crust.

"Try this, you'll like it." He shoved the peice into Taft's paws and then dropped a pawful of nuts on the mouse's lap. "It's call 'oakberry bread'. Brother Fenris, the abbey cook, makes it. Tastes grand, you'll like it."

Taft was about to take his first tast of the oakberry bread, when Sister Isa came scurrying out of the classroom. She hurried to the steps and began to descend, walking around Taft and Skipper. Seeing the otter cheirftan happily munching on snacks, the hedgehog could hardly help but stop and shake her head.

"Rogth, for being a hard-ground beast, you certainly look content with eating all that." She pushed her spectacles up on her nose and looked at him suspiciously.

The otter merely smiled.

"Would you like some, Sister?"

Sister Isa grunted and rushed along her way to find Mother Fendila. She hurried away so fast, that Taft didn't even have time to begin summoning up courage to thank her for his first lesson. He frowned a bit, then, after a moment, he took Rogth's advise on simply doing a bit of eating as thanks. He bit into the oakberry bread and instantly knew that Rogth made the best choice on how to thank a beast. He suddenly decided that the bread was the best thing he had ever tasted and quickly finished it, taking another piece and leaving the other candies for Rogth. The otter seemed to be enjoying them anyway.

He wandered idly if the Mother he'd never known had ever made this sort of bread, then stopped thinking about it altogether. Maybe she had, but she was long dead and gone now, he'd never know. He'd often thought about free youngbeasts in his captivity. Envying them for their parents, freedom and food. He'd never had parents, and never would...

He glanced over at Rogth, who was munching on some sugared fruit and staring thoughtfully into air. There was a light frown on his face and his brow was furrowed, he seemed tense about something. The otter must have felt Taft's eyes on him, because he turned, smiled and gave a wink to the young mouse. The former worry on his face gone in a smooth flash. Taft smiled back.

Rogth was his father now, as far as he was concerned. At least, as much of a arent he'd ever get. There was more to him then what was seen...

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Not far from Redwall, the army of Doxtriz Gorelimb camped in impatience. The horde longed for blood, longed to release their pent up and waiting yearning to kill. Their bloodhound leader assured the outcome of the wait would make all worth while, but they were still restless. Slaves were treated with far more cruelty then normal. Common gambling games ended with more and more fights. Stealing was beginning to heighten and plotting suspected. However, most issues were dissolved by Slylust's flashing blade and one less vermin in the world. His quiet, creepy rage kept most under order.

Doxtriz sat in his dark tent. The knowing of the low moral in his camp hardly concerned him. Those beasts beneath him were nothing more than tools, their opinions meant nothing to him. All was going according to plan...all was well. Slickcast's mate had given birth to his grandson, a beast to take over when Slickcast died. His son would continue the Gorelimb conquest, the glory of the family...

It was a pity Copper would not inherit anything. He was a resourceful and sly beast, far more than his brother.

Half brother.

Being born of a different mother had been his downfall. Shame. He would have accomplished much had he been first-born and a descendant of the old tribes. Of course, she'd claimed she was. But that was all past nonsense now. Slickcast had the means to take over the horde and, and...soon that special gift from a thousand seasons ago. He had a son and he bore the two blood lines to make him a complete Gorelimb. Copper...Copper was the son of weakness. And that weakness had been love. Once he knew that affection was a weakness, he'd destroyed that weakness. Nothing would bring him down. He'd made sure.

Especially with that simple fox maiden.

Suddenly Slickcast burst into the tent, however it hardly phased the bloodhound. He turned calmly to his eldest son, who quickly bowed in respect, eyebrows raised at the intrusion.

"Father, he's really gone." The younger fox panted. "He's gone and taken that damn assassin with him. Probably went to the Abbey. I'll take some hordebeasts and..."

"You'll do nothing of the sort." Doxtriz said quickly and with authority. "I've know he's in the Abbey. I saw him enter it myself."

Slickcast gaped at his father.

"How...?

"Never mind how." Doxtriz snapped. "There's no need to raid the Abbey. I'll still get what I want. Order the camp to break. We leave at dawn."

"Leave, Father?" The younger fox asked. "This is all so sudden...we hardly had a fight... and the horde craves blood..."

Doxtriz fixed his eyes on his son's, looking into their deep blackness. The sharp fire that burned in his own two orbs made Slickcast shiver slightly.

"I still give the orders, Slickcast." The fox said in a dangerous voice. "Do not question me. If the horde wants blood tell them to kill their slaves, there's plenty of those. Give the orders and see that Blackivy and the twins are secure. Nothing must happen to your descendant. He is a key, as are you, to our family line of power. Go."

Knowing that the quick meeting was over, Slickcast turned to go. As he left he stopped and looked back.

"What about Copper?"

Doxtriz turned away, putting his paws behind his back.

"I will deal with him when the time comes. Now leave."


	17. Hope for the Best, Prepare for the Worst

Kirtan sat perched on a branch, looking over the remains of what had been the camp of Doxtriz Gorelimb. Smoke of stamped out fires and rubbish lay about. Bodies of brutally murdered slaves, lay spread carelessly on the ground, the harsh storm covering their thin bodies with snow. Being sure that the horde was indeed gone, he whistled and hopped to the ground. The squirrel knelt by a limp form and turned the otter over, getting blood on his paws. It was a young beast, not much older than Token. Apparently, from the loss of blood and horrid wounds that covered him, Kirtan was sure the slave had been tortured to death. He stood up, glancing over the clearing at the carnage. This was wrong, all wrong...

"What'd you find, Kirt?" Critalli called, coming up behind him, more squirrels following. He stopped when he saw the blood on the scout's paw and the grim face he bore. Seeing the body at Kirtan's paws, he knelt by the otter, checking for a pulse.

"He's dead, sir." The scout said, looking down at the Captain. "Murdered. Looks like torture for fun...all those bodies..."

Critalli stood up gesturing for the group of squirrels to spread out.

"Check the rest. See if there's any who were lucky enough to survive." He pointed to three of the younger squirrels, calling to them over the howling storm. "Flitch, Jeck, start digging graves, these poor beasts deserve a good place to rest after what they've suffered. Griggle, you search about, see if there's any sign of anything. I need a messenger!"

"Here, sir." A brown squirrel said, stepping up.

"Right." Critalli turned to the young female squirrel. "Get a message to Redwall on our find. Tell them that the vermin have left. I'll be sending two scouts after them to figure out their destination. Make sure they know that we'll take a while, burying these bodies. And-"

"Sir!"

The Captain looked over his shoulder to see Flitch waving his paw.

"Wait here." He ordered the messenger, going to the young squirrel's side. "What is it?"

Flitch, a red squirrel with big brown eyes, had his paws on one of the slave's neck.

"There's a pulse sir." He put his ear to the squirrel's chest, measuring the heartbeat. "It's not strong, but it's there. We'll have to move him to the Abbey as soon as possible."

Critalli nodded, waving the messenger over.

"Dressa, go and tell the Abbey that we've a wounded creature coming in. We'll need a stretcher and as much medical supplies as possible to stop the bleeding. It's really a miracle he's not dead yet. Also, tell Sister Cria to be ready for him. We have field healers but she's got more talent than most of us. Now go, fly with speed!"

The squirrel needed no second bidding. She scrambled up the nearest tree, rushing as fast as she could through the storm towards Redwall.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Copper thought it extremely amusing on how frightened the Abbey dwellers were of him as he walked about. The Abbot had not confined him to his room, and so he wandered around, his otter guard close behind him. Each beast he'd met and greeted, looked at him as though he had the plague, before quickly going off. He'd also strayed into Cavern Hole and Great Hall, the beasts there turning suddenly silent at his appearance. They looked at him in fear and confusion, backing out of the room until he and the otter were alone.

"What frisky beasts you have around here." He said, casually leaning up against the hallway wall. "They look at me as though I have nine heads!"

The otter guard shrugged, gripping his spear tightly. Copper smirked thinly at the sight. He's so tense I could read his every move like a book. 

"I mean, I'm only a normal fox..." He continued, looking down at his claws. "...Ah well, I suppose skittish beasts will remain skittish. I suppose I should have expected as much."

The otter nodded, not really sure whether to agree or not. Trying to get this frightened, young guard to talk was proving to be difficult. Through all his wandering through Redwall, the young beast had remained quiet.

"Beasts about here think I'll gnaw their limbs off or something." Copper grumbled quietly. "Cowardly woodlanders, what'd I expect?"

The otter gave him a confused look as the fox mumbled. He shrugged slightly, Looking beyond the vermin. Suddenly, his eyes brightened and he saluted, much to Copper's startlement.

"Skipper!" The young beast said with a grin.

Copper gave an amused look.

"What? Oh..."

He turned slowly around. Upon catching sight of Rogth coming toward the pair in haste and annoyance, he rolled his eyes. The otter still wore his plaid kilt, a saxe knife hanging securely by his side. Smaller weapons kept most Redwallers calm, so the chieftain genuinely took to such inside the Abbey, not wanting to stir up worry. As he approached the fox, his lips instantly drew back in a snarl.

"Good morning Skipper." Copper said with dignity, knowing he wouldn't receive it back as the otter stopped in front of him.

The two rivaling beasts shared a few moments of silence, glaring at each other with contempt. Until suddenly, without need or warning, Rogth's fist caught the fox's face in one swift movement. Copper staggered back, pushing the guard aside and touched his lips. He looked down, noting the blood on his paw with mild interest. He then glanced over at the otter, paws standing akimbo, fists curled, eyes flaring.

"Okay, so you don't do too well in the morning..." The fox drailed, straightening.

"Listen, fox." The Skipper said, coming close. "I don't know why your really here, but I recommend you to watch your step. One false move, one claw touching an abbeybeast, one suspicious action, and I swear, I will kill you."

Copper stood unmoving, looking calmly into the otter's eyes.

"Of course you will." He growled lightly. "I'm a fox, and therefore the most evil of creatures. Though I don't recall doing anything to invoke your wrath so kindly upon myself."

"You came from Doxtriz's camp." Rogth said sternly. "Until I see what good you are, don't expect me to trust you. I judge by what I know and see. And all I see in you is scum."

Copper's expression did not change.

"Minus me letting a slave go, right? You haven't forgotten have you? I hear you're like a father to him."

"You had something to gain from that." The otter said, stepping closer. "I don't know what, but I'll find out. And you'd better be ready to turn tail and run when I come for you."

Copper nursed his bleeding lip and gave the chieftain an unconcerned look.

"One must know when to fight and when to retreat..."

Rogth snorted, crossing his arms and turning briskly about.

"Come then. We elders talked early this morning. Now is the time to decide."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Critalli had ordered that the slave who had been found be wrapped in a warm cloak and watched. A young brown squirrel, Kristina, had been given the order to stay by the barely living creature. As she cradled his head in her paws, she looked over him with pity. He was as thin as a stick, his face was haggard and his pelt covered in blood and scars. He wore a frayed, torn tunic that probably provided no warmth. Such a sight racked her heart and soul in sorrow.

While the other squirrels on patrol buried the dead and scourged the ground for signs, she built a small fire and shelter against the pounding storm. Dragging the slave behind her into the saftey of her makeshift shelter she'd made of branches. She boiled water and tried to tend to his wounds with her knowledge of being a field healer. She bandaged him with what little supplies she carried in her sack. Then she set about putting herbs and spices into the hot water that was left, making a healing drink her father had taught her. She poured the mixture into a flask and put it to the unconscious squirrel's lips. Holding his head with one paw, she allowed a trickle of the drink to enter his mouth and go down the throat.

He groaned in pain, but did not wake.

She sighed and sat back, finishing what bandaging she could do. She snapped her head up suddenly at the sound of paws tramping outside the shelter. A head poked in through the opening. It was Kirtan.

"Kristy, how's the beast?" The scout asked, his face emotionless.

The healing squirrel looked down at her patient, frowning.

"He's bad, Kirt. I have absolutely no idea how he survived with being ill-fed, weak and with such a large loss of blood. I've braced what bones were broken and dressed all the wounds I could but..." She looked up at the scout with teary eyes. "Whatever they did to him...it was horrible."

Kirtan came in and sat down beside Kristina, putting his arm about her quaking shoulders. He knew that she was new to the life of a patrol squirrel. Torture and blood, they were all things she'd been sheltered from before now. This was her first mission out.

"Don't worry about it, he'll be fine." He said softly.

She looked up at him, shivering.

"And if he dies? It'll be my fault for not doing all I could!"

"No Kristy. I know you've done all you could." Kirtan said gently, holding her close. "A beast once told me that when death calls, the best of healers cannot stand in it's way. When it's a beast's time, it's their time."

"But look at him!" The squirrelmaid cried. "I wonder if he's ever known what it's like to be happy!"

Kirtan frowned, looking down at the weak slave.

"Perhaps Dark Forest is where he would find happiness." He looked away briefly and sighed. "Father waited so long to go to mother...maybe this beast has friends and family waiting for him there, Kristy."

The squirrelmaid was silent awhile before looking into Kirtan's eyes.

"Maybe I'm not cut out for seeing bloodshed...but Father would be so upset if I left the patrol..."

Kirtan smiled.

"Not if you had a good reason."

"Oh Kirtan!" Kristina said despairingly. "No reason is good for my thick-headed father..."

The scout looked down at his paws.

"One is." He looked up and caught the squirrelmaid's eyes and quickly looked away again. "You still haven't answered my question."

Kristina stared hard at the squirrel slave as she poured more of the healing drink into his mouth. Again, the wretched creature moaned and stirred, but did not wake. The squirrelmaid brushed her paw along his thin face and then looked up to meet Kirtan's eyes.

"You know I can't." She said, bringing her attention back to the wounded beast before her. "Firstly, you have not asked my father, nor the Abbot..."

"I won't ask them until you've answered." The scout said standing up and going over the exit.

Kistina sighed, cocking her head at the squirrel.

"And what about Token?"

"What about him?" Kirtan asked in a gruff voice. "He'll be fine with it, you and me that is."

The squirrelmaid put aside the flask of medicine and stood up. Going to the scout's side, she put her arm around green cloak flapping at the sudden wind.

"Look, I'm-"

"Kirtan!"

Both squirrels looked through the storm to see Captain Critalli stamping in the deep snow. He approached with his cloak wrapped tightly around him and snow over his face and ears. Still, the tone of his voice was a firm as ever.

"Kirtan, you are to go after that damn group of vermin." He pushed his way into the makeshift shelter and knelt by the unconscious slave. "The others have been buried, hows this one holding?"

"He's alive sir." Kristina said, kneeling by the wounded squirrel to check his pulse. "Alive, but barely."

Critalli looked up at the scout, his eyes glaring with sudden and strange rage.

"Go, Kirt. I want a full report, numbers, weapons, everything." He glanced back at the squirrel. "I want their plans, especially. I'm going to make them pay for this."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Copper stood silently and respectfully as the elders entered the room. Mother Fendila, Skipper Rogth and Brandy seated themselves around a large table whilst the Abbot asked pardon for Critalli's absence, due to scouting that morning. A fidgety squirrel by the name of Scuff would hold his place for the Captain. However, Critalli's failure to show did not seem to bother the fox in any way, he looked more relieved then anything. Sharpfur hadn't been required to join, and so he had taken to his room, resting and awaiting Copper's return under guard. He was bored out of his wits, but claimed to like that then 'listening to blabbling'. Both Brandy and the Abbot had noticed the swelled cut under the fox's lip, but when they asked what had happened, Copper merely shrugged.

"I ran into a rock-hard wall." He said, glancing at Rogth.

The otter snarled silently back, arms crossed in defiance. Brandy sat by the Skipper, to prevent any arguments or violence from breaking between the vermin and his rival. He leaned casually back, ginning silently as his chieftain and friend glared his hatred at the fox, wishing for the vile beast to burst into flames suddenly and die. He had no doubt that Rogth had given the mark to Copper, he only wished he'd been there to see it.

The Abbot stood up, calling all eyes upon himself to begin the meeting.

"Dear elders of Redwall Abbey. We all know why we're here, we all know the decision to be made. However, before I make it my choice, I would like to hear from those who still are opposed to this. Please. Speak now or forever hold your peace."

Instantly Rogth stood, his eyes glued to Copper as though he would tear him apart at the slightest movement.

"I say we throw him off the bell tower!" He growled, making Brandy try to hide a smirk. "If he lives, we trust him, if he dies...no one will weep for his loss."

Illain looked to the ceiling at the comment.

"We do not cast lots on life, Rogth. And that was hardly practical." He said calmly. "Now, why are you opposed?"

"It's because he's a fox, Father." Brandy said, cutting Skipper off from speaking. "My chieftain doesn't feel it right to help a fox, a vermin beast. Their kind are known to be murderous and Rogth's simply concerned."

Mother Fendila spoke, her voice deep and sure.

"Vermin are beasts as well, Brandy." The badger said calmly. "And not all vermin are cruel and heartless. Remember Blaggut from Mariel Gullwhacker's time? He turned out good and well in the end."

"True, uh, Mother." Scuff said nervously, shifting in his seat. "But, uh, mind that is but, oh, one in many, hm."

"One arises from the many." The badger toned mysteriously, then looked over at the quiet Copper. "I dread to say it, but we should give the fox a chance. I sense that if we don't, many lives will be endangered."

"No!" Rogth slammed his paw on the table. "I will not put the lives of Abbey beasts in jeopardy without protection!"

Illain sat down, folding his paws into his sleeves.

"They shall be protected, Skipper." He said slowly. "Of course, it would have to be our best warrior to go along...which is you."

Rogth was about to oppose again when Scuff stood politely up, waving his paws to say a piece.

"Skipper, uh, you are the, hm, best warrior we have, yes." He looked at Copper. "The poem asks, uh, for such, correct?"

The fox nodded.

"That it does. The Abbey Warrior or the best available."

"You see." Said Mother Fendila as Scuff sat down. "Taft would not be alone with Copper. He'd have you..."

Rogth's eyes drained partly of anger and took on a mixed look of concern and shock.

"What? Taft's not going anywhere! When was this decided?"

"One of low and sad birth, Rogth." The badger said slowly. "Taft is the only beast who really fits that description in the entire Abbey."

"Copper," Illian asked, turning to the fox."What do you know of Taft's birth that would make it clearer for us all?"

The fox sighed.

"From what I remember...Slickcast captured a mousewife nearly ten seasons ago." He studied the faces around him. "As it turned out, the mouse was with cub and gave birth to Taft. Not even two days later, Slickcast had the mousewife killed because she was too weak to work. Though unusual, he kept Taft alive to have a completely submissive and obedient slave when he was older. Taft grew up on the name of 'Scum' until I bought him and had it changed to whatever he liked. I sent him here to Redwall with a message of warning...and you know the rest." He glanced at the Skipper. "Taft is a beast of lowly birth."

"I disagree." Rogth scoffed, staring violently at the fox.

Copper returned the otter's gaze coldly.

"Facts are facts. He was born a slave, which is a lowly position is it not?"

"Perhaps upon yore scale...to me all beasts are equal, regardless of their station of birth and life."

"You take me for something I am not, otter." Copper said calmly. "We are not here to discuss what each others beliefs are, but rather to come to an conclusion before you are carried off or my throat is cut. If you wish to brawl, you'll have to wait. I believe it is both rude and repulsive to your fellow Abbey members to do so inside and in the eyesight and earshot of cubs."

"Don't act like you know how we work, vermin." Skipper growled.

Copper rolled his eyes upward tiredly. It was a long moment before he dropped them casually back down to glare at the otter.

"One must keep their friends close and their enemies closer." He said in a bland tone. "Before yesterday, you were my enemy. Obviously, then I studied your ways and life patterns...so I know more than you allow yourself to believe."

Rogth moved forward, only to be stopped by Brandy's paw on his strong arm. He didn't want a fight breaking out now. If they wanted to fight, they'd have to wait until they were off traveling together.

"We really don't need to be discussing this right now..." He looked hopefully a Illian. "What is the permanent decision then, Father?"

The Abbot stood up, paws in sleeves and looked at the faces about him. They'd yield to whatever his choice was, whether they agreed or not, so one could not make mistakes. However, something was pulling him to one of the options, though what is was, he couldn't guess. He cleared his throat then looked to Mother Fendila for support.

"I reluctantly agree to send some of our Abbey beasts with this fox...still, I'd like to hear your yes' and no's. Mother, could you begin?"

The badger rose as the mouse took his seat. Her sheer size amazed Copper, though he held his tongue on the matter. Badgers were big, he'd seen his father's beasts kill one before, but it had been a cub. So seeing one in full size and height was a new experience for the calm fox.

"Father, I cannot explain, but something inside me says I must agree with you." She cast her dark eyes on Copper, taking his unconcerned features in for analyzing. "I don't exactly trust this fox, but my instincts tell me to send our beasts with him on his journey."

Scuff stood up beside her, shaking nervously as ever.

"Hm, though I do not completely understand what the fox seeks, uh, I also feel the need to send, hm, our beasts with him, yes." The twitching squirrel sat back down quickly, shuffling in his seat as Rogth gave his blunt and plain answer.

"No." He said with disgust. "Why? Because I don't trust my life in this fox's paws. And if I don't trust him with my life, I won't put others at risk." He glanced at all the elders about him. "I don't feel anything drawing me to believe him, and I can't see how you can logically think it's safe! Think of Taft!"

"We trust our senses, Rogth." Illian said quietly. "You may feel nothing, but that does not mean you have to trust the fox. You will be armed, and will able to protect Taft. Now, Brandy?"

Rogth looked sharply at his otter friend for support, however, the beast only drew his lips back in thought.

"Well, Father...I feel torn between my choices." He looked apologetically at Skipper. "I have something in my mind tingling to agree, but my dumb common sense keeps punching me in the face, telling me to say no. I'll go with whatever the overall choice is. And since you three are set on allowing it, then that leaves Rogth. I suppose I'm for it then."

The Abbot mouse nodded, noticing the fit of pure and utter rage, then hopelessness and defeat on the Skipper's face.

"Very well." He turned to Copper, inclining his head slightly. "We agree to send our warrior, Skipper Rogth and young Taft along on the grounds that you protect and return them to our Abbey safely."

"I'll try, Father Abbot. Such treks are full of danger and unknown troubles. But don't worry, I'm set on returning." Copper said, catching Rogth's snort with slight annoyance. It would be such an interesting trip to look forward to. "I plan to leave before dawn breaks. The sooner we leave, the better. I don't know what Doxtriz plans next, but he'll be looking for me. That is certain."

"It is settled then." Mother Fendila rose again from her seat and looked at Rogth than at Copper. "I will have Brother Fenris prepare your packs from the kitchens. In the mean time, prepare yourselves. Rogth, tell Taft what is going on. Copper, I trust you will inform Sharpfur?"

The orange fox nodded.

"I will."

"Good." Illain said. "You may go."

As the vermin turned and made his exit, Rogth fell unhappily into his chair, glaring as Mother Fendila, Abbot Illian and Scuff followed the fox out. He looked angrily at Brandy, who still sat at his side, arms folded.

"Well, you certainly were a lot of help!" He growled, earning a grin from the otter.

"Oh don't be so sore about it, Skip!" He spread his paws, looking at his friend. "Think of your freedom from a curtain female!"

Rogth frowned.

"I don't know what you mean..." He lied.

Brandy shook his head, patting his chieftain's back.

"Yes you do." He smiled. "Look Rogth, I don't trust this fox anymore then you do, but I do believe there's something to be gained here."

Skipper looked at Brandy with a skeptical face.

"Really? And what might that be?"

"I'm not sure." The otter admitted. "But I know it'll be worth it."

Rogth leaned forward, putting his head in his paws.

"So what do I do while this mysterious thing is waiting to be discovered?" He glanced at his friend. "They've all gone mad. Mother Fendila, Scuff, the Abbot...even you! Damn, Brandy! We don't even know what we're looking for with this fox! We don't know what we'll find! So why are we really helping him?"

Brandy shrugged.

"Got me. 'Just because', I guess."

"Just because?" Rogth groaned. "Our lives will be hanging by 'just because'! Such a firm thought! What am I to do in the mean time?"

Brandy grinned, standing to go.

"Hope for the best, prepare for the worst."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kirtan rushed along the treetops, his eyes squinting against the raging snowstorm. Tracking the horde had become harder and harder do to the weather conditions. However, he'd managed to catch a glimpse of a straggler or two, confirming that he was heading the right way. The paw prints had quickly been covered by the falling snow, making the scout rush faster along the trees, fearful of loosing sight of the enemy.

It was hours before the horde had finally settled down for camp, allowing the weary squirrel to make a nest in one of the trees. He watched as weak fires were started against the pounding storm and tents pitched. Trying to count their numbers was impossible in this weather. He could see slaves moving busily about under the orders of their masters. No need to worry. They'd soon be free, somehow.

A cold wind brushed past his face, making him shiver. He drew his cloak tightly about himself and frowned, thinking of Kristina. He hoped she wasn't still out in this horrific storm. She should be warm, inside Redwall Abbey, not freezing out in the cold like him. He hoped Critalli had brought the patrol back to shelter. Kristina would be worried about him while under the stress of caring for the wounded slave. But she wouldn't let it get to her and mess her concentration up, she was good that way. Still, it was comforting to know he was probably being missed by her, and his brother of course. But Token could handle himself without Kirtan for a few days, he was a strong little squirrel.

The scouts eyes began to droop, weariness was calling him to sleep and he didn't feel like resisting. Content in his tree, the squirrel drifted into his dreams.


	18. The Journey Begins

Rogth muttered a series of curses under his breath as he shoved an extra cloak into his pack. After the meeting with the elders he'd gone grumbling to his room. Brandy would watch after the Holt while he was off 'gallivanting into the sunset', as the younger otter had put it. He'd done everything he could to avoid going on this journey after the meeting. However, it wasn't for himself that he had fought against going. It was more for Taft. The little mouse was just settling into his life at Redwall and pulling him away just didn't seem right.

Still, he did trust the Abbot and Mother Fendila on their choices. Those two knew more then most on a higher level. Yet they'd never really seen bloodshed and suffering...so how could they know what to expect? He may have never been in a full-fledged battle, but he'd seen a fair share of violence. For one thing, there was that horrific wildcat seasons ago and a few bandit groups he'd dealt with, now this Doxtriz's scouting party...

There was a light tap on the door, causing the otter to sigh. He knew who it was, just what would he say?

"Come in." He grunted, rolling a blanket.

The door opened and Freespring slowly entered, shutting it again behind her. Today she wore a light purple dress, that brushed the floor as she walked. Rogth, had he been in a better mood, would have told her it was like a broom, sweeping the floors clean as she walked. Calmly the ottermaid approached the chieftain, her paws folded polity in from of her.

"Hello Rogth." She said quietly, earning a stiff nod from the otter. "The Abbot told me you're going...though he didn't say where."

"That's because he doesn't know." Skipper said blandly, throwing his canteen in the pack. "Hellgates Spring, I don't even know!"

"Please Rogth," The ottermaid said, raising her eyebrows. "-be light on the language."

The otter looked up and her, his eyes ablaze. She gazed so calmly and coldly back, their normal brightness gone. After a moment, he cooled, but the anger was still with him.

"What are you doing here?" He asked gruffly, avoiding an apology for his cursing.

Freesping sighed. She gathered her skirts and went to the window, placing a paw gently on the sill and looking out into the white land below. She mused that she must look ever so lovely against the setting light of the day, shining through the storm.

"I came to talk to you, naturally." She turned to look at him. "I won't let you go alone."

Rogth stood straight and looked levely at her, a frown on his face. He should have seen this coming, she'd insisted upon coming with him to Redwall, of course she'd try to come now. Well, he'd stop her before he got too far...

"No, Freespring, you are not coming." He said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I'll have my paws full with keeping Taft safe. I won't be able to protect you as well."

The ottermaid's eyes widened accusingly. She put her paws on her hips, looking at him with slight shock.

"So you'll take a cub over me?" She asked with a touch of venom. "I can take care of myself! I don't need protecting!"

"You're staying!" Rogth said forcefully. "If I had it my way, we wouldn't be going at all. Protecting you is besides the point. You and the woods don't do well together, we both know that. Taft was supposibly in the riddle, so he has to go."

"Me and the woods?" Freesping rejected. "I'll have you know I do perfectly well in the woods!"

"Really?" Rogth grained skeptically. He was dead-set against her going on the trek.

"Yes really!"

The Skipper sighed, gesturing to her dress with his paw.

"Your choice of clothing says otherwise."

Freesping gaped at him, looking down at her dress. She smoothed it with a paw and glared at the otter. She thought this dress was simply lovely! Why, she'd worn it to impress him!

"What's wrong with my dress?" She demanded.

The otter shrugged.

"It's far from being camouflage..."

"Rogth!" The maid gasped angrily. "What in heaven's name is wrong with you? Why are you so against me coming? You think I'll be in the way don't you? A burden? You won't take me but you'll take an orphan cub who only just showed up in your life! What about me? Rogth! We're to be married!"

"Freesping!" Skipper barked a little harder then he meant to. "I want you safe. I can't guarantee that if you came. And please, don't be so crude about Taft. He's suffered a lot more then most beasts his size could."

He closed the pack and threw it over his shoulder, turning away. He went to the door, opened it and then sighed in frustration.

"Just stay, please. I don't want to do this in the first place. But if it'll do anything to help this Abbey...I'm willing."

He was about to make his exit when Freespring grabbed his arm, holding his cloak in her paws.

"Here." She said quietly, not meeting his eyes. "You never keep it on when I tell you to."

Rogth frowned, taking the cloak from her paws.

"Thank you, Spring. I...I have to find Taft. We're leaving in the morning and he has to be ready..." With that he left to go to Taft's room.

Freespring watched him go with a slight snarl forming on her lips. She couldn't help the feeling of jealousy rush in her veins. It was wrong, but she didn't try to stop it.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rogth found Taft playing in the Abbey yard by the orchard with Token's Subtle Clan. Though the storm raged, the young beasts seemed content with throwing snowballs at each other. He watched, noting how the others didn't throw their icy balls at Taft as hard as they would to each other. He realized that they knew he was new to this, and so they were being a bit more gentle, letting him become accustomed to it. It hurt the otter to know he'd be taking the mouse from all this. Again, it just didn't seem right. He had to get Taft ready to go...

But, being an otter and otters having a reputation for having fun...rather then pulling the mouse from his games, he joined in, much to the delight of the youngsters. it didn't take long form them to form an alliance against him, ambushing and charging at him with snowballs ablaze. Taft sided with the otter, smiling at the fun he was having. After a bit, he began to throw the cold balls with just as much determination as the rest and he received the packed snow that was hurled back with a grin.

They continued playing until the storm grew harsh and Mother Fendila's voice called all young beasts inside. Having slipped from the badger's watchful eye, the group of friends sat together with Rogth on some stairs, drinking hot cordial and munching on crisp cookies the otter had snagged from the kitchens.

Suddenly Token raised his cup in his paw, saluting Rogth.

"I propose we make a small allowance and let Skipper here join Subtle clan!"

Cheers rose from the young beasts, saying that they could easily make an exception for an otter like Rogth. The rule of 'no adults' could easily be bent. Even Taft joined in the cries to allow the otter in the group. They all raised their cups to toast the ginning chieftain, saying he was the best elder there ever was.

"It's settled then." Token said, his eyes flashing. "You're in with us Skipper!"

The otter smiled, lifting his own cup to play along.

"To Subtle Clan!" He said, his voice was echoed by the young beasts about him. They all drank from their cups and murmured how good the cordial was to each other.

"So," Rogth put his empty cup down on the step and looked about him. "-what's new with you young terrors?"

"Oh Skip!" Aconia said, gently tugging the otter's arm. "Skip, Token said he saw a fox in the Abbey."

Rogth raised his eyebrows as Token continued.

"Aye, I did Skip!" He said seriously, so that the youngsters grew quiet. "An orange fox, all dressed in black! He was trying to talk to Halter or something, but Halt never seemed to listen. What's a fox doing in the Abbey? You would know, since you talk about all that important stuff with Father Abbot."

"Yea!" Kully blurted out. "You could be our spy!"

Rogth frowned, noticing the look of worry in Taft's eyes. The mouse sat comfortably next to the otter and now tensed at the metnion of the fox.

"I shouldn't be discussing that with you Token, even if I want to. Father Abbot asked me to stay quiet and I've got to obey orders."

The squirrel's ears drooped slightly in disappointment, until Aconia offered him one of her cookies in reparation. Token blushed slightly, taking the treat from her paw and grinning sheepishly. Kully rolled his eyes and winked at Taft, who merely gave a thin smile in reply.

"How's the lessons with Sister Isa going?" Wensil suddenly asked the young mouse.

"I...I can wright my name..." Taft said awkwardly. "I practiced all I could so I would never forget."

Token threw an arm about the mouse's small shoulders.

"Paffic maka pefferat." He spluttered through a mouth full of cookies, spraying crumbs.

"What?" Kully asked, giving the squirrel a strange look. Wensil simply watched in disgust, while Rogth grinned and Aconia giggled.

Token held up a claw, swallowed and then grinned.

"I said, practice makes perfect...or that's what Sister Isa says..."

"Repetition is the key to learning." Rogth said, nodding his head. "My father told me that every night with a smack on the back of my head...eventually, I figured out that I was supposed to duck."

The group chuckled, however the steadily growing look of worry on Taft's face did not miss the otter. Figuring it was time to go, he stood up, stretching.

"Oh, it's about that time..." He said with a groan as a bone cracked. He rubbed his paws together, nodding to the young beasts about him. "Right, time for bed then. Come Taft, I'll walk you to your room, the rest of you go on and find Mother Fendila. She'll be counting heads about this time."

At first, the young beasts looked like were opposed to the idea of getting shipped off to bed, until they realized how tired they really were. Saying their good nights to Taft and Rogth, they shuffled down the corridor, still chatting with each other about the snowball fight with the Skipper. Aconia took charge of cleaning the stairs of cups and crumbs, to which Token oblidged himself to help. Paws full of cups, the squirrelmaid turned and then challenged the others in a race to the dormitories. Of course, they all accepted, even Token. No limp would stop him from trying his best.

Rogth watched as the group disappeared around a corner before looking down at Taft. The mouse gave a small smile, making the otter grin.

"C'mon Taft." He said, rustling the mouse's headfur.

The two beasts rose and headed down the corridor, Taft looking down at his paws as they walked. He could sense Rogth slight, but tense motions. Yet whenever he met the otter's eyes, Skipper would simply smile.

When they reached the small room for Taft that had been converted into a bedroom, Rogth opened the door, allowed the mouse to enter, then shut it again. The otter paused for a long moment, wondering how to break the news when Taft suddenly spoke.

"A...are you okay?" He asked, stepping closer to the chieftain.

Rogth nodded, turning a weak smile towards the worried mouse.

"I'm fine...Listen Taft, I'm going to get you up really early tomorrow..."

"Why?" The small mouse asked, cocking his head in confusion.

The otter groaned, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"We'll be going on a trip some place...I'm not sure where."

"B-but why do we need to leave Redwall?" Taft said in a low, slightly panicked tone. "I-I thought I could stay here...And what about Sister Isa? I couldn't miss a lesson..."

"Taft..." Rogth stood up and put his paws on the mouse's shoulders. How could he expect the young beast to understand? "We have to do something, for the Abbey...it's like a mission. Father Abbot is sending you..."

"Alone?" The mouse squeaked, looking frightfully at the otter. "But what about you?"

"I'm coming." Skipper said, noticing the small breath of relief the mouse let escape. "I would never send you anywhere alone."

Taft frowned slightly.

"But I did want to keep learning from Sister Isa..."

"I know." Rogth sighed. "But I promise you'll be able to do that when we come back...or...maybe I could help you there. I'm no scholar, but I'm willing to give it a shot."

Taft looked dishearteningly at the otter.

"When...when will we come back?"

Skipper frowned. A small light of anger shown in the chieftain eyes. He couldn't believe the Abbot was willing to go through with sending them away! If he didn't hold respect for the elders' past wisdom, he would simply forget it. In truth, the Abbey beasts held no authority over him, since he really held his own type of power at the Holt. But then again, he doubted the otters would hold him in the same light after he turned down the Abbot's request.

"I really don't know, Taft."

The mouse yawned, tired from the day's excitement. He unconsciously sat on the bed and curled up next to the otter.

"But you'll be with me, right?" He asked, eyelids drooping.

Rogth looked down as the mouse snuggled up against him.

"Yes Taft, I'll..." A soft snore cut him off. He smiled lightly when he realized that the young beast had fallen asleep. "I'll be with you."

He quietly lifted the mouse up in his strong arms and laid him down at the head of the bed, covering him with the blankets. Then, feeling he had accomplished his task of informing the small beast, he silently blew out the candle that lit the room and silently went out the door.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kirtan blinked in the dark. It was near dawn he guessed and some sort of growl had awaken him. He groaned in his warm nest and shifted, sending the snow that had covered him falling to the ground. So that's what the extra few pounds over him had been. Snow! Well, now he could get some proper sleep since it had gone and fallen off to the ground below...The scout jumped up suddenly, looking down from his resting place. He feared that the snow had landed in a heap over some sleeping vermin below who would jump up, shouting alarm. Normally, he would have laughed at the sight, but now such a thing would only sprout danger for him. He relaxed when he saw that that was not the case. The vermin were just packing their camp back up and were all too busy to notice random snow piles falling from trees. For that, Kirtan was grateful.

The storm had passed over, leaving freshly laid snow, glistening in the darkness. Unfortunately, about the camp the beauty of the white substance was trampled by stomping vermin and rushing slaves. The squirrel frowned. You couldn't expect vermin to enjoy nature, having little appreciation for anything, and slaves hardly had a reason to, treated as harshly as they were. Still, it disappointed the scout to see the freshly laid snow destroyed, so he set about counting.

It was rather hard, though, with all the beasts scurrying about. He knew he'd probably get better luck waiting until they were on the march and then trying their numbers.

Sighing with boredom, he opened his sack and pulled out a small pack of hard dried fruit. It was a meager breakfast, but he hardly cared in his current state of hunger. He was a scout, and he was often asked to go on treks that asked for bleak, uninteresting food and it didn't really bother him.

He watched grimly as the vermin began to organize themselves into (ironically) unorganized columns to march. He packed away his dried fruits and with silent stealth, made his way along the trees to get a better view of the head columns. He not only wanted to count their troops, but also get a look at their leader and his captains. There was also the plans Critalli asked for, besides seeing the number of slaves they held captive. Their food supplies was always useful to know too. He needed to collect all this information just in case it came to any use, and knowing Critalli was prone to battle, war with this horde was unavoidable. That squirrel Captain would charge into a fight with or without help, as long as he got to slay a good few vermin.

Kirtan perched himself on a branch and watched through the thick of branches that served as his cover. He could see a fox, the color of blood red, shouting curses and orders in a heated tantrum. He shoved troops out of his way as he made for a tent, the last to be taken down.

Surely, this couldn't be their leader!

From the looks most of the vermin gave the fox, they seemed to just crave to spill his blood all over the white ground. There was no way this beast held such a large horde in his paws like clay. He doubted they would listen to him was it not for...for that beast.

Anther, older fox with reddened fur stepped from the tent. From what Kirtan could tell, the vermin's face was calm, dignified and certainly holding authority. He watched as the younger, fuming fox bowed before him and started some rant or another, which the elder merely waved off. The younger fox fell silent, though Kirtan was sure he was still angry about something.

Two tarp covered wagons, pulled by slaves tethered together, came forward. The scout's heart tightened as he saw how tired the beasts were. He wanted so much to free them from their slavery, but he knew his duty for now was to gather information and head back to Critalli to report. Still, he felt for the poor beasts.

The two foxes climbed into separate wagons and the horde was then ordered to march forward with all haste. Kirtan grimly ran ahead of the vermin though the treetops in search of a place to sit and count. He may not be able to help the slaves, but he could do what he was sent to with the best of his ability.

Had the squirrel stayed where he was, he would have seen the younger red fox stick his snout out and bark a final order. A group of weasels and ferrets, all dressed in light, flexible clothing and small packs spread out in different directions.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a light knock on Rogth's door, rousing the sleeping otter. He sat up as a Brandy's head popped in through the doorway. Unlike his normal features, the otter was frowning, his brow creased in worry or concern.

"Get up."

"Is it time to go already?" Rogth groaned, looking through tired eyes at his friend.

Brandy shook his head and entered the room, throwing the Skipper his cloak.

"Here, it's cold out there. Apparently earlier today a young squirrel messenger from Critalli's group reported back. The finding weren't good."

The otter chieftain was up in a flash, tightening his saxe on his buckle and throwing the cloak about his shoulders.

"Tell me." He ordered, following Brandy from the room.

"Well, Father Abbot told me a squirrel reported around noon. She said that the vermin have moved and the camp was trashed with rubbish."

"You mean they've left?" Rogth questioned in shock. "The vermin are gone?"

Brandy nodded.

"Yes. it would appear that what that fox told us was the truth. They have no interest in Redwall...yet."

The Skipper didn't respond so the otter continued.

"The messenger said the finding were disturbing. Apparently there were bodies of slaves spread across the ground, tortured to death in horrible ways. However, they did find one alive, a squirrel, though he died on the way in."

"Dirty vermin." Rogth grumbled under his breath.

"That's not the worst of it. Critalli was stupid enough to send a scout after the horde, wanting revenge, you know how he is. Trouble is, Kirtan's Token's only family member and he's the only scout the gracious Captain sent."

"The idiot!" Rogth snorted. "So what now?"

Brandy gave the otter an apologetic look.

"It looks like our only choice is to trust the fox and send you and Taft off. He knows where Doxtriz may be."

"But doesn't Kirtan have any chance of getting back to us?" Skip asked.

Brandy sighed, shaking his head.

"The chances that Kirtan won't be captured are thin. Copper says that the horde does a regular sweep for scouts every three hours, cutting off retreat beforehand quietly. Unless Kirtan can turn invisable at will, there's no way he can get back to us."

Rogth's eyes dimmed in quiet anger. They had reached the Abbot's office and Brandy gripped the handle, turning to look at the Skipper.

"So what can we do about it?" The chieftan asked. "What's the solution?"

"I'm sorry Skip." Brandy said, opening the door. "The Abbot want you to go, now. He's already got Taft up and ready for travel...There's something odd about the Abbot going on..."

The otter chieftain was about to inquire on what his old friend meant when he caught sight of the Abbot talking earnestly to Copper, Sharpfur and Critalli in the corner of his office. The group turned towards them as the two otters entered. Taft was sitting in a chair off to the opposite corner. He held a pack close to his chest, wide eyes fixed on Copper as he spoke with Illian.

"Rogth." The Abbot nodded to him. "I'm sorry about sudden change of plans. Brandy has, no doubt, informed you?"

The otter frowned at the sight of the fox and ferret.

"Somewhat, Father." He glanced at Critalli and his frown deepened. "I hear Critalli has broken our latest rule of trying to keep families together."

The squirrel Captain fumed, glaring at the otter.

"I did what I thought necessary at the time! Kirtan can handle himself well!"

"He won't last another night, if he's not captured yet." Copper said logically. "Doxtriz thinks of everything. He knows how to look for scouts and spies."

"I wonder how you'll tell his little brother I've heard about he's dead." Sharpfur commented with coldness.

Critalli turned on the ferret, tail flared out in anger.

"Kirtan's the best scout I have, he'll be fine!"

"I hate siding with vermin, but they're right you know." Brandy chided. "You acted out of anger and hate, you didn't even bring it to the elders counsel!"

"That would have cost too much time!" The squirrel ranted. "All work and no doing! Besides, I'm not exactly under your authority, Redwall and the Patrol are merely allies."

Suddenly Copper stepped in front of the Captain, his eyes holding a dangerous gleam.

"It may have cost time, but that's nothing compared to good fighters' lives." The fox snarled, showing his clean, white canines. "That's one less defender if and when Doxtriz attacks, squirrel. Nobeast who wastes their best troops should be a leader. And you call me vermin? I disagree."

Critalli, though shocked that the fox may contain some morals, growled back. He was determined not to be bested by a idiotic deserter fox.

"What would you know of leading then, vermin?" He challenged, coming close to Copper's face. "Your opinion on this matter won't even be considered! You hold no power here fox!"

While the squirrel was spurting his insults in Copper's calm face, Sharpfur's paw was slowly moving towards his knife. He'd had enough of the damn squirrel's stupid tantrums. All the elders were looking at the argument...just one little stab and out the window... Little did the ferret know that Taft was watching him as he gripped the blade in his belt. The little mouse jumped up crying out.

"S-stop! Don't...!"

All eyes turned on Taft, startled. They knew the mouse to be quiet and the sudden outburst was most odd. The stares of all the beasts made Taft gulp nervously and look at the ground. I should have kept my mouth shut. He thought miserably. Amongst the others, Abbot Illian gave him a strange look.

"Are you alright, Taft?" He asked in a kind, but tense voice. "Was there something you...wanted to add?"

"I..." The small mouse caught Sharpfur's vicious stare and his mouth went dry. Quickly, he dropped his eyes again. "It was nothing. I-I'm sorry Father Abbot."

Rogth noticed Copper's eyes studying the mouse with slight interest before turning back to the Abbot. The otter knew Taft would not have spoken without reason, it wasn't like him. Still, he kept silent. He would discuss the matter later on with Taft in private.

"I suggest we go as soon as possible, Abbot." Copper said urgently.

The Abbot nodded in approval.

"I agree. I can only hope that you find what you must and bring Kirtan safely back. I would hate to have to tell Kristina he's gone for good. I send you off with my blessing and best wishes."

"Thank you, Father." Rogth said, going to Taft's side and placing a firm paw on his drooped shoulder. "We'll meet at the gate in five minutes. I hope that's time enough?"

Copper nodded to the otter, an amused smirk on his face.

"Quite enough time, oh Skipper of Otters. My assistant and I will be waiting."

"Right." Skip replied in a bland voice, watching the vermin bow and exit the room.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five minutes later, the otter found himself at the gates, bidding farewell to Brandy. The bold otter shook his friend's paw and patted his shoulder.

"I'd wish you good luck, but I haven't been stocking up on that."

Rogth smiled.

"Oh? Since when have you had any luck, might I ask?"

The otter laughed, punching the Skipper in the shoulder, before grinning.

"Eh? I met you didn't I? It was pure luck meeting an old barker like you!"

"Really?" Rogth crossed his arms, eying the otter skeptically. "You call that luck?"

Brandy thought for a few seconds before smirking and passing a wink to Taft, who stood silently beside the Skipper.

"He does have a point there..." He turned back to Rogth. "Take care, Skip, you too Taft. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Right." The otter chieftain said sarcastically, turning towards the gates. "Just don't bring the whole Abbey plus the Holt down on you while I'm not here to keep you under my thumb."

Brandy merely laughed as the otter walked away, Taft by his side. Rogth looked down at the mouse, curious as to why Taft was so silent since he'd seen the two vermin. Of course, it could just be that he was scared, but the mouse had been talking much more since he'd been found and he was sure he would tell him of a problem. He would ask Taft, but not now, Copper was approaching.

The fox was dressed in his usual black garb, armed to the teeth...literally. Rogth was sure those canines could rip a beast apart if the vermin wished them to. His knives were stapped back to his legs, belt and probably under his arms, the otter couldn't see because the black cape over the fox's shoulders hindered his sight. But nonetheless, he was sure that both fox and ferret were heavily armed. A grand sword was strapped to Copper's back, it's hilt could be seen over the vermin's shoulder.

"Ready to go, riverdog?" Copper asked casually, a small grin on his face.

Rogth couldn't help but snarl slightly.

"You ready to drag us to whatever foreign land you choose, fox?"

Copper shrugged, eyes giving a mysterious glint.

"There is no such thing as a 'foreign land', Rogth. It is the beasts that are foreign."

The otter snorted, before feeling a small paw gripping his own tightly. He looked down at Taft. The mouse had his eyes on the fox as he walked out the open gate.

"Rogth!"

Skipper looked up to see Abbot Illian moving towards him with a long object wrapped in his paws. The mouse scurried over to the otter, smiling contently. He stopped before the chieftain and held out the object.

"Take this, you'll need it."

Rogth gave the Abbot a curious look before reaching out to take the object. Feeling it's shape beneath the wrappings, the otter quickly shoved it back in the mouse's paws as though it burned him.

"No, Father Abbot." He said as he took a step back, shaking his head.

However, the old mouse persisted.

"I insist, Skipper!" Illian said, pushing the object back into the otter's paws. "You don't need to take the title, I'd just feel better if you took this."

"But-"

"It's my reassurance that Martin will watch over you." The Abbot left it in Rogth's paws and nodded. "You'll need to understand and get used to it for the future."

Before the Skipper could object further, the mouse had rushed off excitedly. The otter sighed, looking down at what the Abbot had given him. For some reason or another, it gave him a bad feeling.

"What future?" He sighed, closing his eyes. "What have I gotten myself into?"


	19. The Sword

Kirtan estimated that the entire horde held a good thousand beasts, which was almost too shocking for him to believe. Judging by their columns of disarray, they had at least a hundred Officers, twenty Captains and seven Generals, plus the two red foxes. The officers had green cloaks, the Captains had blue and the Generals had red, it hadn't been hard to find that out. It was amazing really, that such a large number could move so quickly. In the space of two hours and a half, they had covered at least a good long march. By nightfall, they probably would have moved a good two day's traveling.

The scout sat down on his branch, his paws sore from constantly moving to keep up with the vermin, who now marched at a distance by his tree. They were surprisingly discipline if they could march for hours without breaks. The squirrel himself had taken long treks, but he usually rested a bit after an hour or so. Now it had been almost three and the vermin showed no signs of slowing. Again his heart reached out for the worn slaves, pulling the wagons under a menacing whip. Daylight was just setting in and their long day was still just at its birth. He knew that while the vermin had vittles to nibble at if they breaked, but the slaves were forgotten and left to starve. Even the slaves in cages, packed into carts with various supplies like cargo and pulled by lower ranking soldiers were easy to pity.

He had to find a way to help them.

But for now, he had his numbers, he needed to move to the next step. Shifting his seat in the tree, the scout calculated his next move, peering down at the moving vermin. How could he get in and out without being captured? How could he get the information Critalli required of him? Perhaps a disguise? But what could he make himself into to fool beasts?

Suddenly, something whisked by his head, thudding into the trunk beside him. An arrow. He shot his gaze to the ground and saw a weasel aiming short recurve bow at him, a black tipped arrow pointed menacingly at the squirrel.

"Git yer 'ide down 'ere, lest ye wanna be a deadbeast!" The tall weasel shouted.

Kirtan was shocked...how could they have known to look for him so high up? He knew from this height that any jump to would prove fatal...besides the other trees were too far away.

"I'm warnin' ye scurrel!" The voice threatened, prickling the scouts brain as he realized his only choice. "Come down, slow like!"

Gripping a small knife he kept with him tucked in his belt, the scout slowly began to descend. However, he didn't give the weasel a chance to slay, talk or move towards him. Pouncing from the tree, he drove his short blade into the vermin's heart, killing him instantly. He jumped up and began running from the scene when three more weasels appeared from nowhere. Damn, that could cause problems.

"Hey stop!" One of them yelled after the squirrel. "Git 'im! 'es gone and killed Lumnose!"

In seconds, the vermin were in pursuit. Kirtan knew climbing the trees as escape wouldn't work, as his pursuers carried bows and from what he'd experienced, they were a good shot.

Another three weasels suddenly appeared from behind a set of trees, their bows aimed at him. He had to skid to a stop in order not to run into them.

"Don't move or yer a deadbeast." One of them warned.

Kirtan's chest heaved as he, looked back to see the other three vermin come up, surrounding him. He gripped the bloody knife tightly, knowing the odds were not in his favor. Six to one. Escape was impossible...

"Drop the blade, scurrel!" One of the weasel's in front of him growled. However, Kirtan only held onto in with a firmer grip. "Scurrel..."

The scout launched himself at the foe, landing on the nearest weasel and driving his small blade into the vermin's throat before any could stop him. He quickly whirled about and launched himself at the first weasel to recover. If Kirtan died today, he'd take some of the foe down with him! He and the weasel fell heavily to the ground. The vermin slashed him across the face with sword, causing the scout's blood to spill into his eyes, blinding him. Kirtan quickly dragged his blade across the weasel's throat, ending it's life.

Instantly, he was grabbed from behind and yanked from the body. He elbowed the offender in the stomach and stabbed backward, catching the beast's leg. The weasel screamed and jumped back, bringing the blade with him. Kirtan, now defenseless was set on by two more weasels. They knelt on his arms to pin him to the snowy ground and constantly hit him to stop his fighting. Still he writhed and struggled until the last surviving weasel came up and held a sword point to the squirrel's throat.

"One move n'yer mince-meat squirrel." The vermin growled, pressing slightly on the blade to emphasize his point. "Gibler, go inform Lord Doxtriz! We've caught a spy!"

Kirtan wrinkled his snout as he saw the weasel he had wounded limp off towards the marching vermin. He struggled feebly, not wishing to give in and be hauled about like a log. His writhing was futile with the sword at his neck. Already he could tell that being captured had high disadvantages...

Yet another weasel seemed to appear from thin air, his blue cape marked him as a Captain. He smirked crookedly as he approached his subordinates and their prone victim. Kirtan could do little besides glare up at him with a furious flame in his eyes.

"Well, wot 'ave we 'ere?" The strong weasel asked, nudging the squirrel with his footpaw and making Kirtan growl. "A liddle spy, come to give aways our secrets? 'ere now, Cussblade, why don't ye take that blade from the woodlanders neck? I'm sure Doxtriz will find this interesting. Bring 'im."

"Aye Cap'n Crass, sir!"

Cussblade, apparently the weasel holding the sword to Kirtan's throat, backed away as the others hauled the squirrel up. Each of the two vermin had a strong hold on his arms, pinning them to his back, so when the scout struggled, it was all in vain. The Captain gave a snort and a wining look to the captive, sending waves of fury down the squirrel's veins. He tired to lunge at the Captain, but was pulled back still struggling. In a trice, he was punched across the face as a warning to calm down. The blow sent his vision white and head in agony. Unwillingly, he sagged in his captors' arms.

"Ha!" Crass grinned, taking Kirtan's chin in his paw. "Stupid beast...I'm sure Doxtriz will enjoy dealin" with you. Bind 'im."

The vermin laughed as one of them came forward and tightly wrapped tough rope around the scout's paws. Then putting a blade back to his throat, they hauled their dulled victim towards the head of the marching columns. Despite his current position, the squirrel couldn't help but be impressed by the discipline and charge his raiding horde had. It was most unusual.

The next thing Kirtan knew, he was shoved from behind to the snowy ground. The vermin laughed at him and one even dared to kick at him. Kirtan would remember that. He spluttered in the cold substance for a moment before forcing himself to his knees. Blood from his wounded cheek ran down his face to redden the snow. He knew he would be scarred from the corner of his left eye to his chin. That was...if he lived long enough for it to heal.

He was kneeling before the wagons. The weasel, Crass, had his head poked in through the tarp, talking to the beasts within. It wasn't long before he pulled away, bowing.

"His Lord Doxtriz Gorelimb! Show your respects, captive!"

Again, Kirtan was knocked to the ground. Oh he just couldn't wait until he was free of his bonds and had a sword in his paws again. These vermin would pay dearly for humiliating him.

A blood-red fox, dignified in his movements, slowly stepped down from the wagon. he was dressed in a black shirt, trimmed with red and black pants. A red cape was flung about his shoulders and a silver polished sword hung by his right side. It was the first time Kirtan had actually seen a left-pawed vermin beast. A younger version of the fox came following from the other wagon, though he chose to where some sort of blackened leather. It was then that Kirtan realized that the two had to be related. As they shared far too many features not to be. Though from their different expressions, he could tell they had entirely different ideas and personalities.

The warlord fox gazed about with a blank expression, before letting his black eyes halt on Kirtan. His piercing stare made the squirrel flinch slightly at their coldness. The black orbs seemed to want to read into his soul, absorbing any strength he might have. He had to resist. For the Abbey, he had to.

Doxtriz stepped close to his captive, looking down into the scout's eyes. From what he could tell, the squirrel was a determined beast. Those types were the most interesting under strain...

"What's your name?" He asked in a bleak voice.

Kirtan scowled back.

"What use would it do you?"

He received a cruel kick in the back from his weasel-gaurds, causing him to fall into the snow (yet again), groaning mutely at the pain. A rough paw grabbed his scruff, lifting him up. Doxtriz knelt on one knee before him, his eyes flashing annoyance.

"Speak squirrel or lose your tongue."

The scout kept his silence, which highly amused the warlord. Defiance was so interesting. Stretching out his paw towards the captive's face, he roughly brush his claw along the deep and widened the wound on his face. As the coagulating blood broke, Kirtan winced in pain. The fresh blood on the fox's paw blended right in with his fur.

" A small wound...answer me scout or your face will be mutilated beyond recognition." His voice was so cold and emotionless it made the squirrel sick.

"Kirtan." He hissed angrily, being purposely blunt. A captive had a bloody job.

The red fox grunted.

"And pray, Kirtan, what are you doing spying on my horde?"The squirrel merely glared, watching as the fox held up a claw. "No lying and no dirty mouth, I have a great dislike for such things."

The scout scowled, cursing inwardly at his captor as he stood up.

"I wasn't spying." He said innocently, earning skeptical looks. The fox raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, not looking happy.

"You're lying..." The warlord stated in a warning tone.

Kirtan shrugged, meeting Doxtriz's gaze levelly.

"Maybe I am." He challenged.

"Damn squirrel!" The younger fox shouted from behind Doxtriz, suddenly loosing his patience. "What have you learned of us? Who are you to report to? Speak, or only pain awaits you!"

"I've learned nothing that you don't know already, vermin!" Kirtan growled back, making Slickcast rush forward in rage and kick him in the face. The squirrel tumbled back, lips and snout bloody from the force of the blow. Well, another bruise to the collection.

"Slickcast, you really must learn to contain your emotions." Doxtriz said as he impassively watched the squirrel struggle to rise from the ground.

"Give him to me, Father." Slick rambled, spitting at the captive scout. "I'll have him screaming answers out before long!"

"I have no doubt." The bloodhound commented plainly. "However your victims tend to die easily from lack of breath, due to your great talent at making them unable to stop screaming. I, however, want this one alive."

He slowly approached the scout, his black eyes searching the captive's.

"Don't try to think you can hind things from me, scout. The Abbey sent you didn't they?"

Kirtan growled, holding his tongue from sprouting colorful insults at the fox that could make flowers wilt and spring water spoil. He was determined not to say one syllable regarding Redwall. He may have failed his mission, but he'd die before giving anything away.

"Well..." The fox continued. "-it hardly matters. Crass, Giblersnout, take him and tie him behind a cart. Let him march to cool his paws off, away from the slaves. I'll deal with him when we reach our destination. Slickcast, get me Slylust, I have things to discuss."

With that, the fox turned about and climbed back into the wagon. Slickcast snorted and briskly turned tail and marched away calling over his shoulder.

"Make sure he'd tied tight."

Kirtan growled as he was grabbed roughly from behind and dragged to a stopped cart. Another, long rope was tied about his paws and then to the cart's back. Already the blood was failing to circulate properly to his paws, making them feel numb and dead. When the weasels seemed content that he couldn't escape, they told the stoat pulling the cart to keep a close eye on his 'cargo' and went off. The scout watched them go, oh he'd make them pay someday. He struggled with the tight binding until he knew it wouldn't yield.

How was he going to get out of this mess?

The cart started, making the rope go taunt and pulling the unwilling squirrel behind. In the snow, Kirtan knew it would be a long, tiresome march. Great. What a way to start the day.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rogth took a deep breath of cool, fresh morning air. They had made good progress since dawn, through he noticed poor Taft struggling to keep in pace with Copper and the rest. Whenever that happened, Rogth would purposely fall back with the mouse, slowing their travel time. It gave him time to strap the wrapped object to his back without being observed by the vermin. He could see the fox silently becoming frustrated with it. Well that didn't matter, Taft shouldn't have been made to leave the Abbey in the first place.

The mouse had become sullen and mute since they'd left Redwall. Rogth was sure it had something to do with Copper or Sharpfur. They were vermin after all, and Taft's past experience with such wasn't good. But then again, according to Copper's story, the fox had freed the youngbeast. So why would Taft fear him? Maybe the little mouse thought Rogth was going to give him back...but that was doubtful.

Now the small, tired mouse was hanging back again. It made Rogth feel guilty, making the youngster travel to heaven knows where. That was another thing. Where were they going? Copper hadn't commented on this area at all and it infuriated the otter having to rely on the fox's good will. Still, the chieftain tried to swallow his pride and go on. That was...at least...until Taft tripped.

Rogth was at the mouse's side instantly.

"Hey mate, are ye alright?" He asked, helping the mouse back up.

Taft nodded, then looked past Rogth at the two waiting vermin.

"Is he hurt?" Copper questioned, his face showing little emotion.

"No. But just t'same, I think we should stop t'rest. It's past noon anyway."

Sharpfur gave the otter a scrutinized look.

"Rest? Now? The journey has just begun and you want to rest?"

Rogth glared at the ferret, warning in his eyes.

"Taft is tired. So yes, rest now. We've been walkin' for 'ours."

Sharpfur scoffed and was about to say something about how lazy woodlanders were when Copper waved a paw to silence him.

"Peace." He looked at Rogth and then down at Taft. "If the otter wishes to break, then we break. This is his quest too."

"Yea, about that..." Skipper said, crossing his arms. "Where exactly are ye takin' us?"

The fox meant the otter's gaze with an uninterested look.

"Where the riddle leads us."

"And that is...?"

Copper sighed and then motioned towards a small pile of rocks off to the side of the path.

"Come on then, I'll show you."

The group sat down to rest, which Taft was extremely grateful for. He knew that these vermin could go on tramping for nearly a whole day before growing weary. They were firm in that regard. He dared not complain to Rogth about how sore his paws were, for fear that he'd make either the fox or ferret angry. He also hoped Rogth wouldn't grate their nerves so much. Copper was Doxtriz's son and had power to slay who he wanted at will and Sharpfur was a highly trained assassin. He'd seen the ferret sneak about the camp at night, gathering information for Copper. To mess with them was a mistake, and he couldn't understand why the Abbey didn't see that. Didn't they know who they were?

He looked over at Copper and Rogth. The two were looking over a scroll with the riddle on it, the fox was explaining their current course. Sharpfur sat grumbling, a considerable amount away from the rest. He was flicking one of his knives around and catching it. The ferret looked up, caught the mouse's eye and then grinned evilly. Taft gulped and quickly looked away as the ferret snorted in amusement.

"See how it says, 'see the sun, follow through the day, never from the path do stray?" Copper said in a reasonable tone to Rogth. "We should be following the sun through the day, that's west. We simply have to stay on the path going west."

Skipper grunted, looking over the riddle.

"Until when?"

"Until we reach the 'home of creatures cold'." The fox prompted, pointing to that line. "I'm pretty sure that's the swamps. The creatures who live there are cold-blooded."

Rogth sat back, looking at the fox suspiciously. To him, this riddle was just far to easy. He knew of the riddles Redwall had before, and they had all been complex and hard to solve...

"Well it seems ye 'ardly need my help. You've got everythin' figured out."

Copper smirked, rolling the parchment back up.

"Your assistance will be needed, I assure you riverdog."

"Well, that's really reassurin'." Rogth snorted, looking over at Taft. The mouse was drawing in the snow with a stick, trying to avoid Sharpfur's gaze.

Copper chuckled at the otter's comment and tucked the riddle safely back into his shirt.

"You really don't trust me do you? You know I could have ambushed you forty times since the Abbey."

"Trust?" The otter looked at the fox like he had nine heads. "Oh, so just because ye haven't killed me yet makes ye qualified for my trust? Hellgates fox, you're demandin'."

Copper smiled.

"I merely meant I'm not going to stab you in the back."

"Okay." Rogth rolled his eyes. "So ya prefer t'stab me in t'heart...well, I suppose that's okay then."

Sharpfur snorted in amusement and flipped his knife.

"There'll be no need t'kill ye with any weapon if t'trek alone will make you wither." He gazed impassively at Rogth. "It's just past noon and the mouse already wished t'break."

Taft gulped as Rogth stood up, glaring at the ferret.

"One more word against Taft and I'll carve ya clean!"

"Oh with what?" Sharpfur mocked, pointing to the otters side. "That little saxe ye consider a weapon? It's not a weapon if you can't use it right."

Skipper snarled and reached to his back.

"You want a real weapon? I'll show you a real weapon! One that has taken many vermin lives like your own!"

With that the otter ripped the cloak from the object on his back, revealing a marvelous, sword with a red pommel stone on the hilt strapped there. He gripped it and pulled the almost-blue blade from it's sheath. He pointed the shining bade at the ferret.

"This is the sword of Martin, of Abbey Guardian. No weapon is as magnificent as this. It's metal is one of a kind, taken from a fallen star many seasons ago and forged into a tool of justice!" He menacingly swished it in the air. "Careful of your words, ferret. I would not have a problem slaying you with this."

Though Sharpfur's expression did not change, Taft caught the look of mild interest in Copper's eyes as he rose and moved towards the otter. The fox stepped smoothly around Rogth to stand in front of him, his eyes on the blade.

"So," He said, reaching his paw out as if to touch it before pulling it back again. "-this is the aged sword of Redwall Abbey. I wondered when I'd get to see it."

Rogth snorted and drew the blade back.

"What would you know of our Warrior's sword?" He questioned.

Copper smirked knowingly and placed his own paw on one of his knives rested in his belt.

"I know its entire history. As well as your Abbey's. I was made to learn and study everything there is to know of Redwall from the time I could read. Unlike my brother, it fascinated me that an abbey could accomplish what Redwall has." He glanced at Taft. "That is one of many reasons Redwall should not fall to Doxtriz."

Rogth grunted, replacing the old blade to it's wrapped sheath and covering it again with his cloak.

"Redwall will not fall. Not now, not ever." He looked levelly at the fox. "Why were you made to focus on Redwall in the first place?"

Copper shrugged.

"My family lived to find the 'gift of Gorelimb' before the Gorelimbs could. My Father was obsessed with making me study Redwall for that purpose. As the Abbey was said to have a lot to do with the riddle."

"Huh..." Rogth looked skeptically at the fox. "So you're kinda like Gorelimb's challenge?"

The fox nodded.

"My entire family line was."

Taft was surprised when Rogth suddenly turned to him. The otter's eyes were firm and his jaw was set so that it almost frightened the mouse.

"Is that true?" Skipper demanded.

Taft looked at Copper and Sharpfur then back at the otter. In all honesty, he didn't know as much about Copper as he did Slickcast, but he did know they were brothers. It accrued to the mouse that Rogth didn't really know who Copper really was, and he didn't exactly want to tell him. Copper obviously didn't want the otter to know and he didn't need the son of Doxtriz Gorelimb angry at him for any reason. He also didn't want Rogth in a fight. So what was he to say?

Luckily, Copper came to his rescue.

"Taft wouldn't know. I was born long before him. But I swear it's the truth."

Rogth frowned. He really had wished the mouse could give him some sort of reason to kill the two vermin...but, he knew that wouldn't have been right. Whatever. He knew the fox had more interest in Redwall then he was letting on. He'd find out what he needed. But not until the time was right. For now, he just had to bide his time.

"Lets get moving." He grunted, stomping away from the others.

Copper sighed and motioned for Sharpfur to get up. The ferret was up instantly and moving up behind Rogth. It was Taft who was the last one to get up and moving. He tramped behind the fox until Copper suddenly turned his head and winked at the mouse with a smirk, then continued tramping.

Taft didn't know whether to be frightened by the action or terrified. He quickly ran up to travel next to Rogth. Preferring the otter to the sly, mysterious fox.

In the trees, not far from where the two vermin and woodlanders had stopped, a beast had been watching them with interest. Now, as the group moved on, the beast followed, keeping to the cover of the tree off the path...


	20. A Flash of Red

Warm, morning sunlight poured down upon the snowy ground, seeking to bring heat to the sodden and cold winter. The sun began to reach into the sky, its rays sweeping the earth below. Under a bare oak tree, lie a little mouse, the rays of warmth resting upon his little form and that of the strong otter by him, both asleep. The Taft twitched his whiskers, snow had fallen from the tree and landed on his snout. He sat up, rubbed his eyes and looked about the makeshift camp.

Copper sat across from him on a log, by the pile of ash that had served as a fire the night before. He held his great, blue jemmed sword in his paws, polishing its blade to shine in the sunlight. He looked up at the mouse and gave a small grin.

"Good morning." He said in his calm, casual voice.

"W-why didn't you wake us?" Taft asked quietly. For the past few days they had waken at dawn and marched long into the night.

The fox shrugged.

"We are near the swamps. They are about three miles to the west. The creatures we are sure to encounter there will most likely charge us. I need to learn as much as I can about the place. Sharpfur has gone ahead to scout."

"Oh." Taft said in a small voice. "He drew his cloak about him tighter and stared out into the forest. It wasn't long before he felt Copper's eyes on him, he gulped but said nothing.

"You know..." The fox began, rubbing at his sword. "A mouse like you should not go unarmed."

Taft turned and gave the vermin a confused look.

"W-why?"

Copper shrugged.

"Why not? I would think that your otter friend would agree." He held up his sword and nodded in satisfaction, replacing it to its sheath. "After all, you need something to defend yourself against beast like...well...like me I suppose."

"But...I don't think I could ever use it..."

Copper gaze became stern and unrelenting as he looked on the mouse.

"Are you free Taft?"

The mouse gulped, wondering where the fox was going with this.

"Y-yes. I am now. Y-you let me go."

Copper nodded.

"No free beast should be afraid to hold a weapon in their defence. I'm sure Rogth would tell you the same." He stood up, walked over to the mouse and took the dirk from his boot. He tested the blade on his claw and flipped it, catching the blade. It was a plain weapon, but Taft knew that it had been well-used. The fox looked at the mouse and then at the blade, then handed the hilt to the young creature.

"A small blade for a small beast."

Taft hesitated before taking the dirk into his paw.

"A weapon is a symbol a freedom. One should wear it with pride."

"It's also a symbol of death." A gruff voice said. Taft looked at Rogth who was just waking.

"Good morning Rogth." Copper said with a grin. "Sleep well?"

The otter sat up and growled at the fox.

"No. Did ye expect me to with yew 'angin' around? Things are bad enough with 'aving t'wake up to yore bloody face."

The fox gave a light chuckle.

"If you think things can't get worse, it's probably only because you lack sufficient imagination."

Rogth glared at Copper, his eyes hinting dangerous wishes. Then, he suddenly closed his eyes and kept silent, which scared Taft immensely. As the fox turned and headed back over to his log, the young mouse poked the otter in concern.

"Rogth? What's wrong? Why aren't you doing anything?"

The Skipper sighed and opened his eyes, looking at Taft's worried face.

"It may look like I'm doin' nothin', but I'm actually waitin' for my problems t'go away. This fox will be t'end o'me."

Taft couldn't help but smile. He looked down at the dirk Copper had given him and showed it to Rogth. The otter took it in his paws for inspection. He nodded a bit, testing the weight and brushed his claw along its blade.

"It's not that bad of a weapon." He finally admitted, glancing over at Copper to see if he had heard. The fox was looking over the riddle again and showed no signs of noticing the pair.

"But I don't know how to use it." Taft stated. "I've never really touched a weapon before."

"Well..." Rogth scratched his head. "I know more about blades then I do about readin'. I suppose it wouldn't be a problem to teach you somethin'. Defence is important."

Taft's eyes shone with excitement. As the otter handed his new dirk back to him, he squeezed the hilt, something he never would have done as a slave. He carefully watched the morning sunlight reflect off the blade and looked up to make a comment when Sharpfur came marching into camp. Without heeding both otter and mouse, he went straight up to the fox and told him something in a low tone. Instantly Rogth was up and coming over. He hated when these two vermin were at all secretive and he was determined not to let them have their way.

"What's goin' on then?" He demanded, stopping a little way from the fox and ferret. Copper looked up and gave him a serious look.

"The swamps. Do you know anything of them?"

The otter scratched his head, glaring at the vermin.

"I know that there are cannibal lizards n'frogs in there, as well as sinkin' sand and t'like." He crossed his strong arms and gave them a look. "Why?"

"As I told Taft, we are just a little way from them." He gestured to the ferret by his side, glaring at the otter. "Sharpfur says that the brush and vegetation is very thick this time of year, we'll have to go by the path. And that would mean-"

"-Runnin' into those fat globs, yes I see." Skipper said, actually understanding the fox's reasoning for once. "Well, I suppose that's why we brought our weapons then."

Sharpfur scoffed.

"Us against over a hundred o'those things?" He demanded.

"Shouldn't be a problem if ye can fight!" Rogth snorted. "But I doubt ye can."

The ferret flared in anger and went to snap a crude insult of his own back when Copper intervened.

"We could go along the path, but they would be sure to find us."

"Would they eat us?" Taft's voice piped up in slight fear. Copper gave him a small smirk.

"They would definitely take it into consideration." He gave Rogth a look. "And I for one, don't want to be served at table with an apple in my mouth."

"So what do ye suggest?" Rogth asked. "We fly?"

The fox grinned.

"If any of you do happen to sprout wings, please let me know." He sat back down on his log and rested his arms on his legs, folding his paws. "For now we think."

"Ye mean ye haven't thought this part up?" Skipper asked, smiling inwardly with victory."

Copper rolled his eyes.

"I'm only one fox, I can't know everything. Perhaps you'd like to give thinking a go for once? I'm willing to listen." He turned to Sharpfur. "You go and see if there's another, smaller path. Report back at nightfall."

Taft noted a secretive glance that the two vermin shared before the ferret rushed into the forest.

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Kirtan had heard stories of beast's being captured by vermin, however, he never thought that he would experience it himself. After Doxtriz had ordered him bound behind one of the carts, his life had been dull and miserable. His guards had often tripped him with their spears, so that he was dragged about in the snow. After getting their laughs, they would haul him up, freezing and shivering. At least they were feeding him something. It seemed that Doxtriz wanted him kept well fed until he would find a use for the scout.

Each night he was bound to one of the wheels on the cart, well away from any fire. Sleep didn't seem to be very fond of the squirrel in that time either. Do to the cold, his wet garments and the way he was tied, slumber seemed impossible. He envied the vermin about him during the night, snoring and wrapped warm in their blankets. He struggled with his bonds until the guard on watch would appear and jab his spearbutt into the squirrel's ribs, telling him to stop. Ah, well...he shouldn't have been captured in the first place. If he had had more experience, then he would have avoided capture.

"Save it for next time." He muttered under his breath. "Next time I'll know not to be so open."

"Eh!" A spearbutt struck his shoulder and Kirtan turned a growl on the guard walking behind him. "No talkin'! Yer te keepit quiet, ye hear!" He jabbed the scout again and the squirrel launched at him.

He would have severely hurt the rat was it not for the ropes and guards about. Kirtan only managed to knock him to the snow before getting grabbed from behind, and a knife put to his throat. The cart was stopped as the rat stood up, glaring angrily at the scout. Kirtan could only gnash his teeth in defiance as the rat came forward, putting his face in the scout's.

"I otta kill ye for that!" He snarled.

The squirrel met his angered gaze and hissed, then spit it the rat's eye. The guard roared in rage, wiping furiously at his face. Kirtan smirked as he was pushed to the ground with a spear, satisfied and amused. The rat had gotten the spittle from his eye and was now grounding his teeth, coming to do some damage to the squirrel. He unsheathed the sword at his side and put it to the scouts throat, looking into the squirrel's face.

Kirtan grinned without amusement.

"Just try it." He challenged, eyes gleaming hate.

The rat growled, lifted the sword and brought it down with frightening force. Kirtan ducked down and pushed against the legs of the guard behind him. The stoat fell into the swinging blade, killing him instantly. The rat stared at what he had done with wide, unbelieving eyes. Blood lay on the ground and dripped from his blade. The squirrel sat upon the ground, glaring at him with satisfied and unrelenting eyes. The rat growled, pointing the reddened sword at the scout.

"Yew did this! Yew made me kill 'im!"

"That is not what I witnessed." A sudden voice said, followed by an arrow burying itself in the rat's chest. The guard fell to the ground, lifeless, his bloody weapon still in his paws.

Blackivy lowered the bow, nodded in satisfaction and handed it to a fox guard beside her. He took it with a bow, eyes marveling at his Lady's marksmanship.

"A grand shot, Madam."

The black vixen waved his comment away.

"Of course it was." She said, coming to stand before a shocked Kirtan. "You are brave, but extremely stupid, young tree-climber."

The squirrel did not reply, too confused by the change of events.

The vixen wore a long, dark blue dress, trimmed in emerald-green. About her neck she wore beads, made from blue stone that matched her earings. The squirrel also caught the scent of wildflower perfume on the air. He looked into her cruel, deceiving and glittering green eyes, wondering what she wanted.

"Unbind him and take him to my tent." Blackivy ordered.

"B-but Mistress Gorelimb...Lord Doxtriz said-"

The vixen turned on the guard speaking, grabbing him by the collar and pointing a painted claw at the dead rat.

"You see him?"

The guard nodded, shivering in fear.

"Well, if you don't wish to end up like him, do as I say. I shall deal with his Lordship." She released him. "Now bring the squirrel to my tent!"

With that she turned about, the fox guard at her side.

As the squirrel was unbound and pulled up, he caught sight of something black off to his right. When he turned his head in that direction, there was nothing. He shrugged it off. This vixen was enough to worry about.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taft stood a little way from the camp, his small dirk in paw. Rogth had showed him some moves before going back by the fire to sleep. The mouse had been hesitant when the lesson started, he still wasn't sure if he was willing to have to kill another beast with it. Yet as the otter carried on with it, the mouse shed some of his worries and began swinging the blade as though it was a mere sport. Well, it was.

He dared to let his imagination take control and he began to think he was a great warrior, feared by those who held slaves and were tyrants. He pretended to be defending some poor beasts, attacked by raiding vermin. They charged. He ran forward, blocking a fox's blade with his small dirk. They fought, him with his small weapon, but imagined strength and the large red fox with his sword. The other woodlanders had taken care of the vermin and were now watching. Then, the mouse struck the deadly blow, catching the fox in the heart. He looked into the dying vermin's face and gasped, coming back into reality. He looked in shock at the blade in his paws and gulped, wondering what it meant.

The fox's face had been Slickcasts'.

Little did he know that Rogth had returned and had been watching him.

"Are ye alright?" The otter asked coming forward, startling the mouse. "Ye didn't cut yoreself did ye?"

Taft shook his head, his heart beating rapidly.

"I-I saw...I saw S-Slickcast." He returned his eyes to the blade. "I k-killed him...with this..."

A frown formed on Rogth's face.

"Ye were imagining, Taft. Lots of little beasts do that at yore age."

"B-But I killed him!" The mouse said. "It felt so real..."

The otter side, coming forward and placing his paws on Taft's shoulders.

"Ye didn't kill nobeast, I was watchin' ye. Now c'mon, we're eatin' dinner." He straightened and looked at the dirk. "Put that away...in yer belt there. Can't have ye hackin' beasts t'beasts...though you're welcome to take an aim at Copper."

"I could never do that!" Taft quickly objected, thinking on how Doxtiz would hunt him down over killing his son. Skipper gave the mouse a curious look, before brushing it away.

"Right, let's go eat."

Taft slipped the blade into his belt, following quickly after the otter. Sharpfur had returned and sat by the fire, talking to Copper of the swamp. As Rogth gave Taft a bowl of plum gravy, the young mouse listened to the two vermin. Skipper took a seat away from them all, leaning against a tree.

"There's just no way through that brush." Sharpfur stated, before taking a swig from his canteen and spitting it out in disgust. "Ugh, sickenin'. I need somethin' real t'drink!"

"Figures." Rogth snorted.

"You never were a beast to go on a journey that didn't involve wine or brandy." Copper commented with a smirk.

"Or wine n'firebreath." The ferret added. "I thought I 'ad packed some in me satchel, but I can't seem t'find it!"

"Perhaps you dropped it." Taft suggested quietly, so that Sharpfur stared at him for a few moments.

"No!" He turned on Copper with knife in his paw. "Yew stole it!"

The fox, though the action was sudden and Taft and Rogth's jaws dropped, did not seem shocked in the least. He rolled his eyes and gave the ferret a look that could make iron melt by the amount of sarcasm there.

"What makes you think I stole it?" He asked.

Sharpfur frowned.

"Ye don't like me drinkin'!"

Copper smirked.

"Of course I don't like it. But to say I stole it is far out of the ring, my ferret." He gave Taft a wink. "I simply removed it."

Sharpfur shook with anger. Then, before Rogth could stop him, the ferret sent his blade flying at the calm fox. However, it only made a hard thud into the log beside Copper's leg, much to everybeast's relief.

The fox stared at the ferret with dead eyes. He looked at the knife without emotion, then gazed back at Sharpfur. All was silent before he smirked, ever so slightly.

"You missed."

And with that he pulled the blade free and launched it back at the ferret. It whizzed past his ear and struck the tree behind him with frightening speed. Sharpfur sat in silent shock and confusion.

"Oh." Copper said in a bland voice. "It seems I've missed as well. Harsh luck I suppose."

"Wh-I-you..." The ferret mumbled, before the fox spoke again.

"Your mistake, Sharp, is that you let your drinks get to your head." Copper stood up, his eyes blazing an emotion Taft had never seen before in a vermin's eyes. "Beasts who allow drink to cloud their minds do extremely stupid things. Do not become so attached to your firewater."

With those last words, the fox left the camp, walking into the growing darkness about them. Sharpfur sat dumbly for a bit, before grumbling to himself and laying down for sleep. A few moments passed, Rogth scooted over and nudged Taft, leaning over to whisper in his ear.

"Remind me never t'get Cop upset when he's got a knife in 'is paws."

The little mouse nodded, gulping.

"He's killed hordebeasts that way before. Sharpfur is lucky."

"Heh." The otter grunted, leaning against a tree. "I almost wish Copper 'ad 'it 'ome."

Taft frowned.

"He never missed a target as I remember. I don't think he w-wanted to kill him."

Rogth looked curiously at the mouse.

"Why not? 'e is a vermin after all. Backstabers, that lot."

Taft bit his lip, wondering how to explain.

"C-Copper...isn't like that. He's not like his Father and Brother...He's..." He gave the otter a unsure face. "He's different."

"Eh." The Skipper shrugged. "Might as well get some sleep."

The young mouse nodded, pulling out his blanket and snuggling against the tree and Rogth. When the otter did not do likewise, Taft looked up at him. He gulped as he saw how red the chieftain's eyes were.

"Rogth? A-are you alright?" He poked the otter, and Skip looked down, the redness gone. "Are you going to sleep?

The otter smiled, shaking his head.

"Naw, I've gotta stay up n'guard!"

"But...you didn't the last few nights." The mouse protested.

The otter rustled his headfur.

"Of course I did! I just...dozed...was all!" He chuckled. "We Skippers sleep with one eye open!"

Taft laughed quietly.

"Good night, Rogth." He closed his eyes and snuggled further next to the otter.

"G'night young'un." The otter said, before looking the direction Copper had gone, his eyes flashing red. "Sleep well."


	21. So Cold

Kirtan had no idea what to think as he knelt on the ground inside Blackivy's tent, paws bound behind him. The fox guard stood beside the scout, keeping a watchful eye on the squirrel. The jet-black vixen that had called him to her tent sat on a pile of blankets and pillows that served for a soft bed. She was cooing a small fox kit to sleep in her arms, her eyes flashing motherly instincts. The babe snuggled in his mother's arms, a light layer of blood-red fur spread over his little form. Another kit lay in the fluffed blankets, watching the squirrel with curious, innocent and young eyes. Her light layer of fur was midnight and her eyes were big, green orbs like her mother's.

Kirtan could not help the slight smile that came over his features at the sight of the babe, who gurgled happily in reply. Though part of the offending species, it was nonetheless cute.

"Tell me of the fox that came to your abbey." The older vixen stated suddenly, tickling the cub she held on the nose. "What did he want?"

The scout lost his smile and frowned deeply. The question was a simple one, but even if he knew the answer he would be extremely reluctant to relay anything to the sly vixen. Indeed, he had not seen Copper in person, but had heard a great deal about him from his friends. Taking in the vision of the mother gently humming to the kits, he sighed.

"I don't know." He answered truthfully, knowing this answer would displease her.

And of course he was correct.

Blackivy gazed coldly at the squirrel, still rocking the babe.

"You're lying." She scowled.

The fox guarding the prisoner put his sword to the bound creature's throat, making the squirrel gulp nervously.

"I never met him." Kirtan added, hoping to get the cold steel away from his neck. However, the fox only pressed with slightly more pressure.

"Copper was his name." The vixen said, placing the now sleeping babe in the piles of blankets and picking up the second. "He is the son of Doxtriz and the brother of Slickcast, my mate." She eyed the captive with scrutiny. "Surely a fox in your Abbey would not go unnoticed."

Kirtan sighed.

"I hardly got a chance to meet him." He retorted harshly. "My patrol and I were far too busy cleaning up after your killing spree of slaves."

xpecting the coal fox to lash out in anger at his words, Kirtan was surprised. Blackivy chuckled as she rocked the twin in his arms.

"Useless that was. Useless, but amusing." She flashed her cruel emerald eyes at the scout. "Good to know that Mossflower has a waste committee."

Kirtan grit his teeth at the comment with restrained fury. This vixen was grotesque. She cooed the babe in her arms and poked her gently in the nose. The little kit squeaked in delight and began to crew on her mother's claw, her little fists clinging to Blackivy's paw. It confused the scout that the vixen could be such a cruel being and yet so loving to her cubs.

Blackivy looked as though she was going to speak again when a large red fox strode into the tent. His eyes widened when he saw Kirtan and looked at the black vixen. His dark eyes narrowed with disapproval at the captive as he approached his mate.

"What is he doing here?" He demanded, pointing at the squirrel with a claw. "Father wishes to speak to him now that we're outside the swamps. I was informed that he was here. Why is that?"

Blackivy cradled her daughter and looked up at the male fox with deceiving love in her eyes.

"Cool yourself Slick, my cunning warrior. I was getting information from the squirrel regarding your half-brother." She stood up and walked smoothly over to the fox, eyes gleaming wickedly. "Unfortunately, he knows little that could come to your use to our plans, my stout fighter. Besides, I have hardly had time to interrogate him."

Slickcast grinned at his mate, causing Kirtan to swallow thickly at what the vixen meant.

"My love, I'm pleased with your efforts. But you must be most careful. Father is not foolish." He looked down at the wide-eyed kit in her paws. "How is my little Ivy?"

Blackivy hummed softly, pulling the blankets round her child, who squeaked lightly. Kirtan watched silently, the whole scene was confusing to him. Then again, he'd never seen how vermin love their family.

"Both are well." She glanced at the squirrel, who still had a sword at his throat. "You best take that...thing...away then, my dearest." She turned and looked deep into her mates eyes. "We'll see you later and discuss...things."

Slickcast smiled and met his mates nose with his own, before suddenly turning about and grabbing Kirtan by the scruff of his neck. The squirrel was too shocked to fight back as he was dragged from the tent, catching Blackivy's smirk before the tent flap blocked his view, he shuddered to think of what the 'master raider' wanted.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The otter waited calmly.

It was a few minutes ago that Taft drifted off to a silent sleep curled by his protector's side. His soft breathing confirmed that he was in a deep sleep. Good. He desperately needed one and the otter was glad. Rogth shifted his eyes from the mouse, glancing over at Sharpfur. The ferret was slumbering silently by the dying fire, paw on one of his knives. He moaned lightly, scratched his nose and snuggled deeper into his blanket, seemingly oblivious to the watching chieftain.

Copper had not returned yet and the otter wondered where he had wondered off to. He didn't trust the beast to be doing something well, and his own thoughts screamed for him to fine out. Still, he felt obliged to make sure Taft was well and cared for before bounding off into the forest. Now that the mouse was asleep, he was determined to do as his mind told him.

Gently easing Taft from his side and onto the ground, he knelt up quietly. Grabbing the sword of Martin as he rose, he glanced over at the sleeping assassin again to make sure he had not heard his light movements. Satisfied as a quiet snore came, the otter covered the sleeping mouse by him with his own blanket. He smiled softly down at Taft before turning and slowly making his way from the camp in the direction the fox had left. With each step, a strong, yet strange emotion of anger overcame Rogth suddenly.

Twisting his head, he glared into the forest, eyes burning bright with red anger. The otter bared his teeth, drew the old sword from it's sheath and trudged on. The young moon shed it's beams over the silver metal, sending shimmers of light into the wood. But the Skipper took no notice. He crouched to the ground, studying the prints Copper's boots made in the snow. His eyes gleamed red as he looked up and peered deeper into the wood. He could smell the fox on the night air.

He walked, breathing heavily and grunting to himself in his thoughts. After some time, he came to a small bunch of trees surrounding a clearing. He was more than surprised to see the fox standing opposite of him, his gaze fixed on the otter expectantly. Copper was leaning on his blue-jemmed sword, his breaths coming soft and calm, clouding gently upon the chilly night air. His black garb blew softly in the winter breeze, giving his a deadly finishing touch. Muscles slightly tensed and ears twitching a little, he stared at his rival calmly as ever.

He was ready for battle.

"I wondered when you would come." Copper finally said after a few moments of silence, his eyes showing little emotion. He looked to the sky through the treetops, staring at the glittering stars. "A beautiful night, this is."

Rogth snorted, but also gazed into the clear sky, before dropping a glare back upon the vermin.

"A good night t'die." He suddenly growled, pointing Martin's sword at the fox. "Yew know why I've come."

Copper looked at him with interest.

"Ah. Finally coming to the point are we?" His lips twitched ever so slightly. "I imagine you've come to 'put me in my place'."

"Ye lied t'the Abbey!" Skipper gnashed his teeth at the simple, true statement. "What is it ye really want?"

Copper smirked without humor, his eyes still blank though looking a bit dreary.

"I did not lie to anybeast, my good otter. I stated exactly what I wanted."

"Yea." Rogth snarled. "What ye wanted at the time. Ye were good coverin' yore tracks, but now I understand why Taft's dead-scared against offending you. And it's not just because yore a fox, vermin." The red in his eyes increasing as he gazed at the fox. "Gorelimb."

Copper met his eyes and blinked, frowning slightly.

"Gorelimb..." He nodded slightly, whispering as his brow furrowed. "A name without honor."

The otter hissed, his grip becoming firm and hard on the hilt of the old sword.

"Ye slipped up fox." Rogth said with a voice like stone. "Ye let it slip when ye told us who you were. Why would Doxtriz notice ye've gone missing unless ye were important in his horde?"

Copper shrugged, looking into the forest.

"I may be a General or a Captain."

The Skipper nodded, slowly taking steps forward.

"Ye may be, but yore words has demolished that possibility." His eyes flared fiery red. "Ye are a Gorelimb! Ye said so yoreself while still at the Abbey. Yore choice o'words were so slick and soft, that none thought of it. But I remembered. You mentioned your father when we spoke of Doxtriz. I should have guessed it!" He raised the blade slightly, mirroring the moonlight beams on the metal. "Ye are that scumbag of a Warlord's son, ye are Slickcast's brother. Taft's master!"

Copper watched calmly as the otter began to shake in rage, eyes glowing in bloodwrath. He knew that once the beast reached fullness of that rage that none could stop him. Reasoning was a poor idea after that point. He would fight if need be, but reasoning came first.

"You forget that I freed Taft, Rogth." The fox said quietly, his own paw becoming tight about his sword's hilt. "You think I'm against you? Why would I have done it then?"

The otter snarled, eyes a bloody crimson color.

"I intend to find out." He charged at the fox suddenly, the sword of Martin raised tight in his paws.

Yet nobeast, if watching, could ever say that Copper was not ready. He swung his own blade blocking the strike that would have cleaved off his head. A loud clang of metal on metal marked the start of the dual. Each of the beasts met the other's eyes. If any spirit of reason had been between them, it would have withered in fear at the sight. The fox's gaze was calm as ever, but firm and determined. Rogth's orbs flamed of bloodwrath, seeking for vermin's bitter blood with crazed thinking.

So they stood, blade on blade, eye on eye, their weapons flashing in the moonlight.

"You know nothing of my motives!" Copper stated with bared teeth, reading his opponents movements with his peripheral vision.

"Perhaps then..." Rogth swung again, sparks in his veins. "You should make them clear!"

The fox blocked the heavy blow, which was soon followed by others. Skipper's swings were in raging madness, the skill in his weapon coming from a warrior's spirit. But that did not trouble Copper too much. Though he was not as strong as the otter, his skill was excellent. Doxtriz may have not favored his younger son, but he had still demanded thick, complex training towards him. Copper was superior to his brother's weaponry, often besting him in front of the horde. That was, at least, until Doxtriz forbade the two publicly fighting and eventually banning Copper from ever challenging his brother. Still, the fox had not lost heart, he merely practiced with the horde's Captains and officers or just plain soldiers. It wasn't often that he was beat, but he knew it wasn't impossible.

"All in good time, Rogth!" Copper said, parrying another blow and allowing the otter to force him backwards. He struck out a blow and cut his opponent's shoulder, causing a little blood to flow from the wound. "Oh, I've seem to have maimed you, sorry there."

The otter roared, not feeling pain from his wound and swung, his blade seeking to cut the fox in two. Copper's reflexes saved him and he sent a kick to Rogth's legs, causing him to stumble.

"Fight like a warrior!" The Skipper shouted, forcing the fox to block his blade yet again.

"I don't wish to kill you!" Copper hissed back, fighting as the otter forced him against a tree. "At least...not now!"

"Too bad! I do!" Rogth growled, and the vermin knew he meant what he said.

Something suddenly snapped in the woods around them, Copper's trained and sensitive ears caught it. Trying to keep his focus on Rogth as well, he listened intently. A whisper! He'd heard a whisper and...

His sword was ripped from his paws, sending it into the snow, away from the small battle scene. The fox looked in shock at his empty paws before glancing up to meet a very angry looking Skipper.

The otter had his blade to the fox's throat, his blood-red eyes gleaming in victory. Copper cursed to himself for letting his guard down so easily. The noise may have been nothing, but it had cost him.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you." Rogth demanded, pressing on the blade slightly.

Though surprised that the bloodwrath monster before him had asked him a reasonable question, Copper met his gaze without emotion.

"The Abbey." He said in a level tone that didn't waver. "Without me the Abbey will fall into my father's paws."

"You're begging then?" The chieftain said with a grin, which disappeared when Copper shook his head stiffly.

"No, reasoning." The fox remained still, his eyes ever on Rogth's, but something moved in the corner of his eye.

"That's a lie and we both know it." Skipper growled. "Yew only said that t'get me away from there!" He pressed on the blade, making blood trickle down Copper's fur. "Now, if ye wish t'live ye'll tell me why!"

The fox smirked, looking discreetly beyond the otter.

"Why?" He repeated, looking back into Rogth's fired eyes with his own dark ones. "Why do we ever to anything, Rogth?"

Suddenly the vermin kicked out with his legs, sending the otter backwards and causing him to drop his sword. Rogth snarled angrily and launched himself at the fox again before something struck the otter hard across the back of his head, rendering him unconscious.

The Skipper fell, revealing a smirking Sharpfur, who stepping over to Copper as the fox retrieved his own sword.

"Are ya harmed?" The ferret asked, looking over the bump on Rogth's head. "I came as soon as I could."

The copper fox shook his head, glancing down at the unconscious otter.

"I'm fine." He sheathed his blue-jemmed blade and knelt beside Rogth's prostrate form, examining the head injury also. "He'll be alright as well. Bind him though. He's brought us ahead of schedule."

The ferret nodded, taking some rope from his pack and binding the strong otter's paws behind his back in tight knots. As he did so, he took stock of his surroundings as he had trained himself to do over time. His keen eyes caught a movement in the shadowed forest. There was a beast there, he could barely make out the form.

He gave a soft whistle to take Copper's fascinated attention away from Martin's sword. When the fox's dark eyes rose, Sharpfur gently inclined his head towards the trees where he had caught movement. The young Gorelimb nodded.

"Don't worry, the shadows bear us no harm." He stated quietly. The fox moved towards Rogth and hauled him from the ground, grunting as he lifted the creature over his shoulder. "How far are we?"

The ferret assassin smiled thinly.

"An hour or so."

Copper smirked.

"Perfect. I'm sure our friend will begin to stir about then."

And with that, the two vermin trudged off into the dark, Sharpfur taking a quick stop by the camp for their supplies. Taft still slept, oblivious to what was happening to his protector. Still, in his sleep, a cold ice overtook his heart, making him wonder in his dreams...

Why was it suddenly so cold?

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slickcast's guards unceremoniously dragged Kirtan across the camp to his father's black tent. About them the stink of the frozen swamp met their senses. The young squirrel shuddered involuntary when he thought of the creatures that lived in the dark, dreary and cold marshes. They were known well for their cannibalism, snatching unsuspecting beasts to invite to dinner. That is, being the main course of the meal.

The scout was almost relieved when they arrived at Doxtriz's blackened tent and emotionless guards. They parted the flaps for the red fox and the vermin restraining Kirtan as they entered. Instantly, the young scout was tossed carelessly to the floor. He struggled to regain control over the dizziness that clouded his mind as his head hit the freezing ground.

"My Lord and Father, the captive you requested." Slickcast said with a bow, while nudging the scout.

Kirtan bared his teeth, but kept silent. He glared his hate at the raiding warlord, who calmly gazed back from his stance in the corner of the tent. He wore a long, charcoal-colored cloak, his torso was clad in a black lorica with red cords. By his side hung his beautiful, yet deadly broadsword, tucked safely in it's shining sheath. His red fur clashed with his dark attire, making Kirtan wonder if the fox was truly a demon.

"Kirtan." Doxtriz greeted in a level voice, before waving the guards away. They bowed and left without incident, leaving the two blood hounds and the squirrel alone.

Slickcast prodded the scout with his paw.

"Show your respect, tree-rat!" He barked, making Kirtan flatten his ears to his head and glare.

"I cannot show what I do not have, vermin." He retorted.

The younger fox flushed angrily and balled his paws into fists. He would have had no problem beating the young squirrel to a pulp if it wasn't for his father wanted him conscious. Turning his dark eyes back to Doxtriz, Slickcast suppressed the urge to kill. Why was he so sensitive today? Ah well, he'd take it out on a slave once he was done here.

"Your choice of words are not the wisest, Kirtan." Doxtriz drummed, meeting his captive's eyes. "But you are young. You could not even comprehend the havoc and pain I could cause you." His eyes hardened. "However, I could easily change that if you don't do as I ask."

"And what is it you ask?" The squirrel snorted.

Doxtriz paused, looking over the scout with mild interest.

"I ask for information. You will give it to me. Through pain or will, I shall still have it." He rested his paw on the silver hilt of his sword. "There was a fox in your abbey by the name of Copper. He departed with three companions. I must know of these beasts."

Kirtan bared his teeth.

"Why?" He questioned with narrowed eyes.

The fox smiled thinly and without mirth.

"That is for me to know. The first I want to know of is the otter. Who is he?"

"I was not present when they left, so when you say 'otter', quite a lot of creatures come to mind." Kirtan grinned. "Redwall is currently swarming with otters since most bodies of water are frozen."

Doxtriz glared darkly at his prisoner.

"Well then, what otter is most likely to leave with a fox?"

The scout scowl. Regardless of his situation, he was really enjoying himself.

"None of them, they all despise your kind."

As Doxtriz and the young scout shared a glower, Slickcast growled under his breathe.

"Father, we're not getting anywhere with this."

The elder blood-hound ignored the comment, keeping his dark eyes on his captive's. Despite his greatest efforts to contain his discomfort, Kirtan couldn't stop the fur on the back of his neck rising as his two green orbs locked on the fox's. Vermin fed off of their victim's fear, and he wasn't going to let any visible shivers run down his spine to amuse them.

"He is obviously a strong, 'noble' warrior, more or less." The raider said in a dangerous voice. "That should narrow it down a bit."

Kirtan could not help the chuckle that escaped his lips.

"Most of our otter warriors are strong and definitely noble." He smirked. "That hardly narrows it down! Not very bright for a fox, are you?"

In truth, both Slickcast and Kirtan expected Doxtriz to be even slightly angered by the comment, but he only smiled.

"You had better hope he is strong." He leaned forward. "It would be a shame to have him captured by the inhabitants of this swamp." He paused. "Then again, they do like tough meat. Yes, yes indeed."

And with that he waved for the guards to take the confused squirrel away.

Kirtan didn't even want to think about what the Warlord had in mind.


	22. Trust Me

Dawn brushed the woodland, creeping upon the darkness and slowly, but surely frightening it away with its brightness. The glory of the morning sunlight warmed the little body that huddled under a proud oak, shivering in the snow. A long-burnt out pile of blackened ash rested nigh a foot from the figure and frozen dew rested upon it's shivering form. For a long while, the creature did not move as the soft sound of wind blew through the fresh, wild air.

The warmth of the newborn light began to melt away the frost on the branches of the strong oak. After a bit a steady pattern of cold drips fell upon the creature cradled against the tree's bark, causing it to stir.

Slowly, emerald-green eyes opened, glazed with the remnants of sleep, confused to what woke him. The mouse stretched slightly, leaving his nose vulnerable to the constant drops of melted ice. His face scrunched up in protest and being sat up, brushing away the water from his face with the back of his paw.

A yawn escaped from Taft's mouth before he could stifle it, however he still indulged himself in it. Stretching further the little mouse stood up, brushing the snow from his cloak and glancing about. He was alone, completely alone.

That was when panic set in.

"Skip?"

His forest-colored eyes swept frantically over the camp. The fire was smothered out, paw prints scurried about the clearing from the night before, however, the spots that had held Copper's and Sharpfur's packs and spread blankets were cleared. His head quickly fell down, looking for any sign of Skipper's belongings. They sat undisturbed, however there was no hair of the otter and Martin's famed sword was gone as well.

Fear set in as Taft scrambled through the snow, looking around the trees for any signs of life besides himself. He called out for the two vermin and his protector, listening intently for an answer. But for all his fear, hopes and panic, no voice made a response to his desperate cries.

It wasn't right! Rogth would never abandon him! He said he would protect him!

"M-maybe he's just scouting..." The young mouse whispered to himself, praying it was true. "I-I'll just wait a bit more for him...he'd never leave me alone..."

But Copper and his ferret assassin where missing as well, their supplies with them. Rogth's pack was still sitting where he'd left it...could he have been forced away? But...why? Copper had already gone against his family, so the young mouse found it unlikely that the otter was being dragged off to Doxtriz's horde at that very moment...

A rustle came from the snow covered brush about the clearing, followed by the sound of a soft squeal and snap of a branch. Taft jumped at the sudden noise, startled from his thoughts. He whirled about, catching the soft sounds of a beast muttering curses under it's breath and shuffling.

The mouse gulped, his paw wrapping about his dirk's hilt in preparation for an enemy. He tried to calm his panicked breathing as he slowly, cautiously moved towards the sounds of what had now become growling and soft snarls. He stepped behind the tree nearest to the brush and swallowed thickly, praying that whatever the creature was wouldn't think him a tasty breakfast and eat him whole.

Skipper would want me to be brave...just think of Rogth and all your friends back at the abbey. He tensed his muscles and prepared to swirl around the tree. Think of Subtle Clan. Think of anything, anyone! Think of-

"Token!?" The mouse gasped, jumping out of his hiding place, dirk in hand.

Sure enough, laying sprawled on the snowy ground, tangled in some climbing rope, was the golden-red squirrel, leader of Subtle Clan. The young beast looked extremely annoyed and fraggled, currently battling with the thick ropes about his footpaws. His fur was scruffy, his cloths dirtied and soiled so much that he was sure the Mother of Redwall to shame...or fury. His eyes came up to meet Taft's and a smirk played on his lips.

"Howdy Taft!" He said cheerfully, forgetting the bindings. "Long time no see!"

"Token?!"

The golden-red squirrel sighed.

"Well, last time I checked that was my name."

The young mouse gaped for a few minutes, clearly still in shock before collected himself.

"What are you doing here?!" Taft said a bit louder then his usual timid voice. "How did you find me?"

The squirrel shrugged slightly, glaring down at the ropes.

"By the looks of it, you found me, Taft." He grinned pathetically. "Mind helping me with that toothpick in your paws? It may be able to sever this blasted, treacherous rope!"

Taft frowned slightly, looking down at his dirk, still pointed at his friend.

"I-It's not a toothp-"

"I know." Token smirked. "Just lend me a bit of help."

Taft frowned and slowly lowered his weapon, walking over to his friend's side. Heaving a sigh, he began cutting away the bindings that tangled the squirrel. His unsteady paws were unused to the blade, so his grip began fierce, making his paw tremble so that the dirk would not slip from his grasp. While he busied himself, Token began gratefully telling his tale of coming after the mouse.

"Father Abbot told me about your departure at breakfast to me and Tissle. He didn't tell us why you left though, but later Wensil told us that Rogth had gone too, along with the vermin. Halter told him to keep quiet about that matter though, so he didn't provide much info." He paused, pulling a rope taunt so that the struggling mouse could cut it with ease.

"I-I don't really know much myself, Token." Taft said softly. "I didn't know I was going anywhere until they woke me up. I-I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you."

The squirrel chuckled, finally able to slip from his binding and stand up.

"No need to get upset, I followed you didn't I?" He cracked his back and planted a grin on his face. "Besides, this 'get away' seems to have been a good thing for you...though it's only been a few days."

Taft frowned.

"I don't see how. Rogth's gone missing and Copper is gone too."

"What?" Token scowled. "What do you mean they're gone?"

The young mouse swallowed thickly, pointing back towards the camp sight.

"I woke up and they weren't there anymore. I don't know why. I called for them, but nobeast answered."

"Shouted more like." The squirrel grumbled. "Your calls woke me from the most wonderful dream and made me lose my balance and get tangled in my own nest."

"S-sorry." The younger beast mumbled, looking down at his footpaws. "I didn't know."

Token laughed, wrapping an arm around the crestfallen mouse.

"Hey no worries! I'm a klutz anyway!" He poked Taft's arm. "Besides, you saved me didn't you?"

The mouse shrugged timidly.

"I suppose..." He sighed, looking up into his friend's face. "But what are we going to do about Rogth?"

"Hm..." Token rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Well...he's a big otter Taft. I don't think he needs our help, but if he's been captured..."

"He wouldn't have left me if he wasn't!" The mouse proclaimed.

"True..." The squirrel bit his lip in harsh thought before giving his friend a wink and smirk. "I suppose we'll have to save him then, won't we?"

Taft looked skeptical to the idea, but nodded. He wasn't eager to leave his protector at the mercy of the vermin, but he wasn't sure that himself and Token were enough. They were only armed with a dirk, and both were completely oblivious to the correct way to wield it. Rogth's one session with the little mouse surely wasn't enough to combat with.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sharpfur lay sprawled out comfortably on the ground, eyes shut in an attempt at sleep. Night traveling he was used to, but since he now also journeyed by day, he wished to catch up on his rest. However, it was not to be. Unfortunately for the poor ferret, this hope was far from becoming accomplished with one, very unhappy growling otter sitting a few feet from him. The vermin shifted his position against the bark of the tree he had selected as comfortable and grumbled to himself as the captive continued to glower unceasingly at the assassin.

It had been nigh a few hours since the otter had woken bound from paw to paw and he had most certainly had not taken to it. Copper had been so gracious as to leave the otter in his assassin's care while he scouted, thus leaving Sharp alone to deal with the anger and insults of the Skipper. He swore that otters have serious anger issues and made a mental note never to associate with them in the future.

And to say that Rogth was furious would be an vast understatement. The otter was currently contemplating one hundred and one ways to kill a curtain ferret and fox, not to mention that he didn't keep these fowl ideas to himself. Between his fits of outrageous curses that would make spring flowers wilt and old grannies drop dead from shock, he would mumble quietly (but not out of hearing range) about the gory details he would ensure with the vermin at their curtain death. Then he would grin wickedly when the ferret told him to shut his trap. The ferret was positive the chieftain had hit his head too hard.

However, while the assassin was uneasy and disturbed by this new side to the otter, Copper was not.

The fox had been thorough amused by it, chuckling and he even began asking to what tools the otter would use in this violent process. In truth, the fox was the only one who found the current scenes funny, suggesting recipes that might go along with the remains of himself and his ferret partner. Rogth only fumed all the more, and poor Sharpfur would go between blanching and choking, disgusted and angry with his choice of companionship.

Another mental note: never associate with foxes.

However, right now, the ferret just wanted some rest and the otter's grumbles for revenge had become extremely bothersome. Couldn't a decent assassin get a good nap for once? Currently, the chieftain was promising quietly to drown him in a pot of boiling water...why? The assassin couldn't even begin to guess, as he had only followed Copper's lead. He just wrote the experience down to his knowledge. Otters are insane when mad. Especially this otter. This was certainly one situation the ferret was surprised to find himself in. Normally chieftains were level-headed and strong minded...but then again, Rogth wasn't your everyday chieftain.

But the assassin had had enough. His normally calm, dangerous demeanor was being ruffled and he didn't like it in the least.

Sharpfur was just about ready to hop up and start skinning Rogth, wondering how the creature could continue his strange attitude for so long. He had tightened the grip on one of his various blades his body held, thinking on taking up some of the otter's ideas himself. No doubt whatever crazed sickness this beast had was spreading to his captor. However, murder was not to be committed that night, for it was just as the ferret was rising to finish the otter when Copper decided to return. As usual, he was smirking at the finally silent and glaring otter with interest in his eyes.

The Gorelimb sat himself down near the assassin, taking a deep drink from his canteen. The sword of Martin rested in his belt by his own blade, wrapped firmly in a white cloth and he unconsciously clutched it's hilt as he drank. He gulped it down once or twice and began spluttering chuckles as he caught the ferocious glares of both the captive and his ferret friend. Looking between the two his eyes landed on the growling otter.

He sighed.

"Now, Rogth, stop acting like a cub and perhaps we'll reason with you." He cocked his head towards the ferret. "Sharpfur seems to be fed up with your recipes of fox and ferret pie."

"I promise yore demise, fox." Skipper snarled, followed by an eye roll from the fox. "I swear once I'm free yore gonna regret ever bindin' me!"

"Rogth, I have no intention of keeping you bound. But you must start behaving if you want to be free. I'll not stand for you trying to amputate random limbs from me or Sharpfur." He sighed, shaking his head. "I am surprised at your behavior, oh chieftain."

Rogth huffed, scowling.

"'ow do ye expect me t'act, weaponless and at t'mercy of vermin?"

Copper laughed mirthlessly, casting a look at the captive.

"You think us such ferocious vermin then? Oh of course you do!" His eyes became hard and grew dangerous. " I'll have you know that you are less then half a mile from the bloodsucking Gorelimb horde. Now there's some sickly foes. Have a care, otter. Right now you and I are allies, but I cannot release you until you accept that."

"Do ye often keep yore allies bound?"

The fox let out an exasperated sigh ad rolled his shoulders.

"It is necessary, Rogth. Though the picture is currently poor." He looked at the otter in the corner of his eye. "A patrol will be here shortly from Doxtriz's horde."

"Yore Father." Rogth snarled.

The fox nodded impassively.

"Yes."

"And what do ya plan t'do? 'and me over t'them?" The enraged otter demanded, completely serious. "And what about Taft? 'e's alone now, no thanks t'ya!"

"You shall have to trust me on this otter." The vermin said, crossing his arms. "I cannot rely my plans to you, but I promise you this-Taft is well and with friends."

"Right." Rogth scoffed, eyes narrowing. "Yore friends or mine?"

The fox chuckled, cocking his head slightly. Otters had such hard skulls, but that was what he liked about them. He often found slave otters while in the horde and admired their born defiance and bravery, beaten down a bit or no.

"Well said, Rogth. But yes, they are your friends...or 'friend' I should say."

That made Rogth lift an eyebrow.

"Been followin' us since we left t'abbey." Sharpfur added, casting a glare at the otter. "Tis that right little pike with a limp."

"Pike?"

Copper nodded, looking to the trees.

"I do believe you Redwallers call him 'Token'." He said conversationally.

"TOKEN?!" Rogth's jaw dropped in shock, then began shaking his head. "What is 'e doin' away fro t'abbey!?"

The fox gave a small smile, ears twitching towards the woods.

"Loyalty is a common virtue in Redwall, even I know that."

A snap suddenly resounded through the woods, causing the fox to snap his head towards the sound. He abruptly stood up quietly and looked to the forest, listening. Sharpfur was immediately alert and by the vermin's side, peering into the darkened forest. A moment of silence rained over the trio before Copper shook his head.

"Determined they may be, Sharp, but they're still a blundering lot of fools." He gave an indignant snort and turned away. "They tramp through the undergrowth and snow louder then a drunk badgerlord! Stealth is certainly not one of their better qualities!"

Sharpfur smirked darkly and met the fox's eyes.

"That's why ye 'ave me." He stated starkly and the Gorelimb bobbed his head in understanding.

"Indeed. They're late, why don't you give them some direction?"

The assassin grinned gleefully, a wicked glint shining in his eyes as he nodded and turned to go. He really loved doing his job. It seemed that he disappeared the moment he touched the trees.

"Who's late?" Rogth growled, watching the ferret disappear into the wood.

Copper shrugged without care and looked to the sky.

"Nobeasts of any importance to you...yet anyway."

The morning sun was climbing up, warming the day proudly. The fox judged that Doxtriz had roused the camp by now and was surely about to resume their march. The scouting patrols should have started out. Soon the next phase would to the plan would begin. He breathed in the fresh morning air and closed his eyes, relishing it. He placed his paw to his hip, feeling the hilt of the relic of Redwall.

Slowly, admiringly, he ran his paw down the fine metal. He rubbed his claws to the hilt, memorizing every line of it's plain, but beautiful design in his mind. The he got the urge to feel the blade once again.

Copper opened his black eyes and looked down at the weapon. Pulling Martin's from his belt and advancing on the otter, unwrapping the weapon as he walked. He was well aware of Rogth's death glare, but was not put off as he stood before him.

He hefted the old blade admiringly, eyes glinting in awe. "This is a beautiful weapon." He rubbed his paw down it's blade, closing his eyes and savoring the feel. "Truly a warrior's blade. It's fame is well known and well feared. Long have I wished for such a prize."

Rogth watched with dissatisfaction as the fox put his grubby paws all over the relic of Martin. He was certainly far from pleased, and wondered why the fox was so amazed by it. Of course it was a rare thing and it possessed beauty, but Copper seemed obsessed with it.

"Yes, I have wished long to hold this very weapon in my paws." The vermin continued, pausing as he caught Rogth's eye.

"Steal that, Gorelimb, and you'll not just have my rath to worry of. All of Mossflower and any other goodbeast will hunt you down for that and mercy is forgotten at such times."

Copper laughed lightly, a smirk on his lips.

"I do not intend to steal this fine piece, riverdog." He suddenly flipped the white cloth back around the sword swiftly and returned it to his belt. "I am not worthy to wield such a thing and I would never be so stupid as to try."

"What do you mean?" The otter asked, confused and suspicious.

He had been curtain that the fox wished to take the blade as his own, as warlords had tried in the past. He knew that he wouldn't be able to stop Copper if he chose to, and the thought of the fox denying that claim left his mind twisted in knots.

The vermin didn't answer he question, his ears twitching in concentration to the wood behind him. A smile spread on his face and he reached down, pulling the otter up by his stout arm. Rogth struggled a little, not liking the idea of the fox being near him, but Copper's grip was like steel.

"Trust me, otter." The Gorelimb said, facing the direction in which Sharpfur had left. The pounding of paws was now as clear as freshwater. "Remember to trust me."

"Like I should?" The captive grumbled, but Copper didn't hear or didn't care, for no sooner had he finished speaking that about eleven vermin warriors bounded boldly into the clearing.

Sharpfur promptly dropped from a nearby tree with a grin and stood from his crouch.

"Ah, Rogth, welcome to your first helping of the Warriors of the Gorelimb horde!" Copper said, pushing the stunned otter forward and into the care of two stout weasels. "You'll find them to be charming brutes! Ah, Captain Drejer!"

He gave Rogth a wink before turning over to a one-eyed stoat with a full chest and tattooed arms. The brown-furred beast held a large claymore in one paw easily and his eyes were a dark shade of blue. His uniform of a battle-worn jacket and breaches made him fierce looking, not to mention the cruel looking long dirk strapped to his left leg.

"Yore Father has ordered ye restrained if found, Copper." Drejer stated in a gruff voice.

The smirking fox waved aside the words like one would a fly.

"Of course he has, no doubt Slick feels all proud and mighty now, eh? But tell me Captain, do you think Father will like my present?" He indicated to Rogth, whose eyes narrowed in anger. "The otter cheif of Redwall!"

The stoat looked to the bound otter, eyes showing slight interest, before he turned back to the fox.

"'e'll be pleased, though yore actions will need explaining."

"Of course." Copper nodded, grinning and sending a wink at an infuriated and now struggling Rogth. "Shall we be off to see him then. I know he is impatient and will certainly want to get this over with."

Drejer only grunted, before turning and ordering his vermin to follow, which they did, dragging Rogth past the fox. The glare the otter gave was vigorous and unfaltering, but Copper returned it with a calm stare.

"Damn fox." He growled, before being pulled off by his impatient guards.

Copper watched him be dragged away with a shrug. Turning his head slightly, he saw Sharpfur standing beside him. Most creatures could never hear the ferret in his movements, but Copper knew him too well to be fooled. The assassin had joined him as he spoke to Drejer, his movements undetected or not cared for by the other vermin.

"Will yore Father bend?" Sharpfur asked in a placid tone, his eyes analyzing the vermin marching away.

"Have you no faith in me Sharp?" Copper said, black eyes on the assassin. "Doxtriz is no fool, he will suspect me, of course. I have handled him in the past, this is no different"

The ferret snorted.

"Yore skills are well n'fine, but what of Blackivy?"

The fox laughed lightly and rested a paw on the blade of Martin.

"Slickcast will keep her at bay for me." He chuckled some more, head cocking to the side in amusement. "He may care nothing for his spawn, but she is precious property to him."

The assassin nodded in understanding.

"And with t'otter we go as planned?"

Copper nodded, moving to catch up to the group.

"Everything will be well,just do your job and leave the rest to me."


End file.
